Hatred
by Just Slightly Obsessed
Summary: Their lives are founded on hatred. Hatred and love. Hatred and respect. Hatred and anger. Hatred and jealousy. Hatred, and yet more hatred. It's terrible, really... but so entertaining. Caine-Diana-Drake various one-shots.
1. Focus

**Ok, so this is a series of Drake-Diana-Caine one-shots. Humour, angst, romantic... it will vary, probably depending on my mood. Anyway, this is the first - set pre-FAYZ. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: This story is disclaimed.**

* * *

They'd always been aware of each other, even at the beginning.

They'd never really spoken, and they certainly didn't rotate in the same circles. If any one of their classmates had been asked to find a link between them, they would have been momentarily stunned that those three names had been mentioned in the same sentence. And even once they had recovered, the only answer they could give would be that they were all very good-looking.

And yet, despite this, when they were in the same room, they were the only ones in focus. Everything else turned blurry, sounds became echoed, like they were underwater. And even if they weren't looking in the right direction, they were always aware of each other.

Diana Ladris, with her electric aura of superiority and dark eyes which it physically hurt to look into for longer than two seconds.

Caine Soren, with the gravitational pull of a black hole and enough subtlety to outsmart Sherlock Holmes.

Drake Merwin, with a grin sharper than a straight line and the strange ability to clear a space ten paces around him just by revealing said grin.

People loved them. People feared them. People hated them. Often all at the same time. But nobody linked them.

Not once.

*

Diana noticed because they were untouchable.

Caine Soren was a legend, and nobody could deny it. The number of times she had heard his name was in the six-digit region before she actually saw him. Upon doing so, she could tell why; his good looks, charm and apparent easy-going personality had gathered him a posse of only the most elite, with many more hopeful applicants. He was a natural leader, and everyone held him in a certain level of respect. Even Diana found herself drawn to him, keeping her distance in order to keep a suitably sarcastic light on him.

It was only from a distance that she saw the nerve centre of the brainwashing charm Soren was pulsing through his classmates' heads. There was a sinister side to him that intrigued her, curled up at his centre ready to lash out at any moment, not to destroy, but to conquer. He knew he could bring anyone round, force them back into the delusional world he created. And he had, in every case.

Drake Merwin was a completely different matter. He had no posse, he had no loyal companions. He was constantly alone, constantly solitary. And yet if someone said his name, everyone would jump and look around nervously. Merwin knew this. And he loved it.

Diana's only encounter with Merwin was one she didn't wish to repeat. She'd been out one night, going for a walk around the grounds, when she'd spotted someone near one of the hedges. She'd come closer, only to discover him sitting on the grass, calmly squeezing a rabbit's neck. A couple more dead rabbits lay at his feet, and he was grinning at her with a look that dared her to tell on him. She'd managed to pass it off with a disdainful look, but it had been a close thing.

She hadn't told. Nobody ever would. And he was completely safe.

But he couldn't be. Neither of them could be protected from ridicule forever. If nobody else found a way, she would.

It wasn't fair that some people should have no faults to laugh at.

Diana was waiting for them to show a sign of being human.

*

Caine noticed because they were unconvertible.

He had known, from the first moment he saw Diana Ladris, that she wouldn't give in to his charm the way every other girl he'd met had. This automatically presented him with a challenge, something Caine never, ever passed by. He lost sleep trying to work out how to make this cold, beautiful girl one of his, and when he did sleep, he would dream up ways. He learnt her habits from a distance, smirked at the sarcastic comments she flung carelessly at everybody she met. He wouldn't actively change his ways to learn more about her, but every time anyone mentioned the name Ladris, all other sound was tuned out.

By the time he found a way, purely by luck, it was too late. While he'd been trying to make her fall under his spell, he had plummeted straight into hers.

As for Merwin… it was pointless even to try. For the moment.

Caine knew all too well what Merwin was like. He knew that any one of Coates' deeply understanding counsellors would be seriously disturbed if they could see into that kid's mind… anybody would be. But then again, if anyone could see into Caine's mind, they would be pretty damn nervous. And in the grand scheme of things, Merwin would be useful. With a capital VERY.

But the time for that wasn't now. Caine knew that he would have to wait for his time to convert Merwin, and even then, he would be a dangerous ally to have. For the time being, he'd just watch, from a distance, and fine-tune his plan. Coates was going to be a very different place once he was through with it.

And yet he couldn't help himself, when learning about the Russian Revolution, from glancing at Merwin every time the secret police were mentioned.

He would bide his time. Both of them would come around, in the end. Eventually, he would win; he always did.

Even if he had to use this newly found force of his.

Caine was waiting for them to pledge their unreliable allegiances.

*

Drake noticed because they were unafraid.

Ladris. Glossy and perfect, she turned every head at least twice; once to stare, and once to hastily retreat from the glower that stormed straight back at them. Nothing and nobody got to her. She didn't squeal at the sight of a spider, but she didn't crush it either. She just picked it up and threw it out of a window. She never tripped, never stumbled. Nothing spoilt her dignified disdain for everything she saw. And Drake longed to be the one to do so.

He'd tried. The rabbits – he smirked every time he thought about it – that had been fun. But unsuccessful. He'd been harsher to young kids in order to fuel the rumours about him, hoping to scare her. Every time he passed her, he hoped for even the smallest glimmer of fear in her eyes. Nothing. And that just made him more urgent.

Soren. The very name made Drake's blood boil with hatred. Smirking, self-satisfied, and glancing over everything like it was his. What made it worse was that Drake knew exactly where this hatred was founded; a jealousy so deep it had been forged between them before their births.

It wasn't the admiration, or the attention, or even the girls that Drake was jealous of; Soren was welcome to that any day. But he had power. He controlled almost everyone he knew. With a click of his fingers, he could make half the school jump over a cliff for him. The other half would follow as an act of penance, for not having instantly obeyed his orders.

Drake had power too. That was what came of being people's worst nightmare. But Soren was stealing his thunder, and he knew it. And he didn't care.

One day, he knew, they would both be scared of him. It was just a shame that they wouldn't be around long enough to savour the feeling.

Her screams and his flinches would be enough for him.

Drake was waiting for them to fall.


	2. Sessions with a psychopath

**Hiya people! This is quite a long chapter, but it's more light-hearted then the last one. I'd like to thank those people who reviewed; your comments actually made me jump around the kitchen singing FAME... yeah, anyway...**

**OK. Second one-shot, and it's mostly about Drake. Enjoy!**

* * *

The man leaned forward on the desk, clasping his hands together and plastering an Understanding Look™ on his face. "So, Mr Merwin, I believe I am your fifth councillor this year. Is that correct?"

Drake sat sprawled over the chair in front of the desk, barely lifting his eyes to look at his councillor. "Yeah."

"I have been told that the other councillors specifically asked not to work with you anymore. Is this true?"

"If you've been told by someone else, why d'you have to ask me?"

The Understanding Look™ was replaced by a Very Amusing Mr Merwin Smile™. "Because we're here to talk about you, Drake. We need to help you realise what's troubling you."

"The only thing troubling me is that everyone's trying to get into my head. If I suffer from paranoia, I will blame it on all you damn quacks."

"Well, in a certain light, paranoia would be better than what it is you have, Drake." Dr. Quack glanced down at the file in front of him. "Why do you hurt people?"

Drake shrugged. "Cos it's fun?"

"What do you find so fun about it?"  
"I dunno. What do you find so fun about intruding into the private lives of kids?"

He sighed. "Just try to answer the question."

Drake pondered for a second. All right. He would humour Quack-o, just this once.

"The blood. I like the colour…"

"Good, good. Anything else?" The doctor seemed to be getting quite excited that he'd got somewhere no duck had got before. Venturing into the unknown… a dangerous thing to do.

"I like the screaming too. When they're just screaming and screaming, and the blood's pouring out of them, and I can stop whenever I want, or make it worse."

"That will do, Mr Merwin."

"Younger kids are good," Drake continued, getting into his stride. "They yell a lot earlier. But it just rises in pitch and volume, until it cuts out altogether. Then they just lie there whimpering and being really boring."

"Drake, I'm not sure that's…"

"But adults… they'll still try and hold out authority over you, even when they're so pale you can't tell where their eyeballs start…"

"THAT'S ENOUGH, DRAKE."

He blinked innocently. "But I thought this was about helping me realise what's troubling me?"

The doctor closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That'll be enough for today."

"OK, doc." Drake got up. "Same time tomorrow, huh?"

And, smirking, he left the room.

*

"Right, Drake. I want you to imagine you're down on Perdido Beach."

"What, with the flipping townies?"

"No, no, no." The doctor was clearly pleased with this new, innovative way of getting Drake to reveal his innermost secrets. "It's just you. You're on the beach. It's sunny. The sea is blue. There's nobody else around. You're completely and utterly relaxed."

"I wouldn't be, psycho."

He sighed. "Drake. I'm a psychologist."

"Yeah, and?"

"Psycho stands for psychopath."

"Oh. Well, same thing, right?"

"Why wouldn't you be relaxed?"

"Well, I could never be comfortable unless my friends were there."

The doctor smiled, sensing a breakthrough. "Why's that Drake?"

Well, seeing as you ask, Doctor Moron…

"Cos if I was by myself, there wouldn't be anyone to hurt, would there?"

The psychologist winced, but bravely continued down the road to ruin. "Would you call the people you hurt friends, then?"

"Friends are people you get close to, right?"

"Well, yes."

"And you can't hurt someone without getting close to them. Unless of course," Drake began counting on his fingers, "you have a gun, a bomb, or a missile launcher. Or even a simple pointed stick. Personally, I prefer using my bare hands. Seems much more personal, somehow, don't you think?"

The doctor stood up abruptly. "Think about it. You'd better have a sensible answer by the time I see you tomorrow."

"Oh, I'll think about it, doc." Drake grinned. "You know, I'll probably dream about that beach. Completely alone, except for me and my closest friends…"  
The doctor hastily left the room.

*

"Clear your mind, Drake. Let everything go."

If anyone could move with sarcasm, Drake did, sagging into his chair with such exaggeration even the doctor noticed.

"Try and be serious."

"I'm trying my hardest, doc."

"OK. Now I'm going to ask you some questions. Answer the first thing you think of. Got that?"

"No, sorry. You lost me there. Can you explain in more detail?"

The psychologist sighed and began to expand on his previous statement before he realised Drake was sniggering. Sucker.

"Let's start. Your favourite thing in the whole world?"

"That's not a question."

"What is your favourite thing in the whole world?"

"Black widows."

The doctor raised and eyebrow, but continued.

"Worst thing?"

"Quacks."

"Best friend?"

Drake snorted. "Me."

"Favourite girl?"

He paused, glaring at the doctor. "Diana Ladris."

"Least favourite girl?"

"Diana Ladris."

"Both favourite and least favourite?"

Drake shrugged. "She's the one I want to hurt the most."

The doctor continued hastily. "Role model?"

"The Terminator."

"Favourite colour?"

"Blood red."

"Life ambition?"

He had to think for a second. "Being feared. By everyone. Starting in this school."

"You're not feared by everyone in this school?" Drake smiled at the note of surprise in the doctor's voice.

"Not quite. But that's about to change."

"One last question. If you could do anything right now, what would it be?"

This time, Drake didn't hesitate. "See that waste paper bin?"

"Um… yes?"

"Yeah. I'd ram that into your head into you were knocked unconscious, then write QUACK in paper cuts on your forehead."

The doctor turned pale, but managed to keep a stern look on his face. "Now, listen to me, Drake. I've had enough of you not taking this seriously. If you want to get better, you're going to stop treating me like an idiot and concentrate."

Drake gave him a strange look, but didn't answer.

"I mean it." His right eye twitched involuntarily. Drake smirked. "If you want to be treated like an adult, start acting like one."

"All these clichés." Drake tutted, slowly standing up. "But wouldn't you agree that adults in general are more violent than children?"

"No. I mean…"

"What about wars? And fights in the street?" Drake began to walk steadily towards the waste paper basket. "Gun crime. Wouldn't you say that was caused by adults?"

"Drake, get away from there."

"So, technically, if I need to act like an adult to be treated like one," Drake said thoughtfully, leaning down to pick up the bin, "continuing to act the way I am doing is a good idea."

The doctor broke. He jumped up from his chair and ran towards the door, frantically pushing it before realising he had to turn the handle. He opened the door and was gone, hurtling down the corridor and breaking the sound barrier on the way.

*

Drake stood for a moment, before gently putting the bin back on the floor. He looked once around the office, taking a hole-punch from the desk and slipping it inside his jacket pocket, before heading out into the deserted corridor.

He made his way to the old games room. It was supposed to be out of bounds, but kids had used it as a hideout to smoke and drink for ages. Until Caine had decided it was his personal hideout, and got Drake to inform the rest of the school. They hadn't liked it, so Caine had posted Drake as bodyguard for a couple of days. Now nobody went in there.

Caine was slumped on a couch, his eyes closed, looking exhausted. He was talking quietly to Diana, who was pacing, absent-mindedly spinning the players on an old table-football game. As Drake walked in, she glanced up at him and, to his surprise, smiled.

"Fearless leader? Your henchman has returned."

Caine sat up immediately, eyes wide. "You're back early. What happened?"

"You sound concerned, Soren." Drake settled himself on a backwards chair facing the others. "I didn't realise you were so worried about my mental health."

"I'm not worried. Your sanity isn't going to come back any time soon." Caine leaned forward. "Did he walk out?"

A grin spread unchecked across Drake's face. "No."

Diana began to laugh. "He ran out."

"Crying like a baby."

Caine looked incredulous. "Three days?"

"Only three." Drake's voice was smug.

There was silence for a moment. Then Caine swore. "No way!"

"Yes way." Diana came to sit on the arm of the couch near Caine's head. "If there's one thing I've learnt about our Drakey, my dear Caine, it's that you should never underestimate his ability to annoy people."

Caine fell back onto the couch, groaning. He paused before muttering. "Ten, was it?"

"Twenty."

His hand slowly reached into his pocket and drew out a twenty dollar note. He held it out above his head. Diana snatched it and smiled down at him.

"Thank you."

"So…" Caine glanced at Drake. "You'll be getting a new psychiatrist soon, huh?"

"Probably." Drake cocked his head to one side. "Think I can beat my time?"

"No." Caine's eyes closed. "And I'll bet you a day without the use of sarcasm."

Diana gasped with irony. "The stakes are getting higher and higher. Caine, you're seriously going to regret saying that."

Drake just smiled.

If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to make psychiatrists go psychopathic.


	3. Every fibre of his heart

**Hi, guys. Again, I want to thank those people who reviewed - most reviews I've ever got on a story. I know - sad, huh?**

**Anyway, this is a slightly ansty/romance one-shot set after Hunger. It's also got an appearance from Astrid. Hope you enjoy, and have a Happy Easter! :)**

* * *

Caine was jolted out of his broken sleep by a scream loud enough to wake the dead.

_Don't think that. NEVER think that._

He leapt off his chair and knelt down by Diana's bedside. She was sitting up, her eyes wide, terrified, but unseeing. Her hands were in trembling claws. Her hair, now grown to a ragged mop around her neck, was completely out of control. Her dignity, her silky shield of contempt, was gone.

Caine had never seen Diana like this. And that made him even more scared of the thing which haunted her dreams.

Thing. Creature. Animal.

"Diana, can you hear me?" He tried to keep his voice steady, and just about managed it. She didn't reply.

"Diana, if you can hear me, please, answer me." He took her wrist in one of his hands.

Her mouth opened and she tried to whisper something. Caine leaned closer to hear it.

"You… you did… deal with him?"

"Yes. He's gone now." Back where he belongs, rotting away in a dark pit with his precious master. "He's not coming back."

She didn't seem to hear him, but she slowly tilted backwards, her eyes closing. Caine caught her as she fell back, gently laying her down on the pillow. As he did, her arm moved, her palm finding his and tightly gripping it. He froze, unaccustomed to the physical contact.

If Diana – his Diana – was aware of this, she'd have pulled away sharply, shooting a remark at Caine scathing enough to make his eyes water. He tried to detach her hand from his, but he couldn't. She was completely out of it, her basic reflexes coming back while she healed. There wasn't any affection in the grip. But Caine was stuck to her, until she woke up again.

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching Diana's eyelids flutter as she ran through dreams filled to the brim with twisting, flexing tentacles and psychopathic laughter. He would do anything, anything at all, to tear Merwin from those dreams. If he could twist Diana's mind, he'd do it. Even if it meant she forgot him.

But he couldn't do anything. He couldn't even try to help her, because despite the knowledge that he himself had flung Merwin down a mineshaft attached to a rod of uranium, Caine shared Diana's dreams.

It was two months since the incident.

A small whimper escaped Diana's lips. Caine touched her forehead; it was burning up. The very thought that Diana wouldn't get well again made him shake with anger. He'd thrown someone out a window and as far towards Perdido Beach as he could when they suggested that he should leave her. That had kept people obeying him, at least. But he knew that if Diana didn't get better soon, the Coates kids who still obeyed him would start to get restless.

Restlessness meant rebellion. Rebellion meant unnecessary injuries. In the mood he was in now, there would probably be deaths.

Caine realised he was squeezing Diana's hand much too hard. He lessened his grip to realise that her own iron clasp had released its hold. Her mouth was open slightly, her full lips dry and cracked. She needed water.

He gently removed her hand from his and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'll be back, girl."

As he left the room, some unattached part of his brain observed that he was much more confident around Diana when she couldn't answer back. He told it to shut up.

The corridors were deserted. Caine had no idea where anyone was, but he headed down to the room that had been designated the larder. Their supplies had been diminishing fast. He had sent kids out to go and find food, but they hadn't managed to bring much back. Meanwhile, Sam and the Perdido Beach kids were eating like kings in comparison, feasting on fish and meat.

Meat. Caine's mouth watered at the thought. The last thing he'd eaten had been a quarter tin of red kidney beans, overcooked and with the consistency of mush. He'd given Diana the rest. She needed it.

Nobody was guarding the larder. That wasn't a good sign. Expecting the worst, Caine entered the room and groaned. He'd been right. There was not a morsel of food, nor a drop of water. The whole larder was empty.

He swore under his breath. It was getting desperate. Later, he'd gather up some of his people and get them to go on a serious food hunt. He'd get them to bring back moss from the forest to bring back and boil if all else failed. They had to find food, and if there was one thing Caine would not do, it was going to Sam Temple for help. He still had a little pride left.

But for now, Diana needed water. And he was the only one who could get it for her.

He grabbed one of the empty water containers and left the larder. There was a small stream nearby. The bigger kids used to half drown their victims in there before the FAYZ. More recently, it had come to signify the end of Sam's territory, and the beginning of Caine's. Upon remembering this, Caine took a small detour to the arms room, and grabbed a pistol. He'd rather be safe.

Caine was all too aware that his land had shrunk to consume only the Coates Academy grounds. That would change. His brain worked separately to his mind; Caine knew that he could come up with a strategy for invading Perdido Beach again, when the time came. Ideas were already bubbling up. His brain had been kept stagnant for too long. Taking over would be easy. It was getting there that would be hard.

He left the building, and his eyes were confronted by a torrent of bright light. He winced. How long had it been since he'd been outside? A week? Two? A month? He honestly couldn't remember.

Heading down towards the stream, he passed by Moses' cottage, the place where Diana had taken care of him after his first encounter with the Darkness. He'd still never got over the fact that she'd stuck by him, even though he was screaming in the night and throwing people through walls. It had given him hope that, maybe, she did have feelings for him. But he'd never told her that. She would have laughed at him, and he didn't need any more of that.

As the stream came into view, Caine saw a figure with a mop of dirty blonde hair crouched by the side, scooping up water with their hands and drinking desperately. His gun hand came up before he could even see who it was.

"Stop that."

The figure jumped, their head jerking upwards to stare at Caine. With a jolt of realisation, he recognised the Sam's girl, the one with the creepy brother. Astrid somethingorother.

"Caine," she said, her voice trembling.

"Astrid."

She seemed surprised that he'd remembered her name. "What are you doing here?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Same as you. And I'd have thought that my right to be here is greater than yours, what with this being Coates and all. How did Sammy boy let you slip through his grasp?"

She hesitated, not wanting to tell him anything. He jerked the gun. "Little Pete's missing."

"Who? The retard?"

Astrid flinched violently. "He's not retarded."

"Sure. What happened? Did he freak?"

"Yeah." She reached up to wipe her matted hair from her face. "There was a small skirmish which aggravated him to the point of reposition. I'm trying to locate him."

"I'm not Sam, genius kid. Your polysyllables don't do anything for me." He approached the stream, still focusing his pistol on Astrid, and dipped the container into the water.

"You're more like Sam than you think, you know."

This surprised Caine almost to the point of dropping the container. "What?"

"You're not that different from Sam."

He laughed uneasily. "Nice try, Astrid. You're not fooling anyone, you know."

"It's true."

"Ah, of course," he said sarcastically. "I, being of merely average intelligence, cannot hope to comprehend the ideas of Astrid the Genius. Please enlighten me as to the ways in which I am similar to my brother."

"Well, besides your DNA..."

"No sh-"

"You're kind at heart."

Caine did laugh then. "What? Me? With my delusions of grandeur?" He winced suddenly as he realised he had used Diana's phrase.

"Who're you getting the water for, Caine? Yourself? Surely one of your cronies could do that for you."

His finger tightened on the trigger. "Watch where you're headed, genius."

"You love Diana."

"Shut up."

"You'd have given your life for her."  
"I said shut it."

"You joined with Sam - your arch nemesis – to save her."

"I'm warning you."

"And that makes you a good person, at the end of the day," finished Astrid.

Caine squeezed the trigger.

There was a scream. Astrid collapsed as her knee shattered, blood spurting out in a colourful red. Her leg bent beneath her; a sickening crack sounded. She went pale.

Caine calmly came to kneel beside her.

"Now listen to me carefully. How many people do you think Sam hates?"

She didn't reply, glaring up at him.

"Two? Three? Not many. I'm proud to say I'm probably one of them." Caine gestured at himself with the gun. "And me? How many people do I hate?" He paused for a second. "I'm finding it difficult to come up with one person I don't hate."

"Diana," Astrid said defiantly.

"Hmm. No, I'd have to say I hate her too. And I'll tell you why. Because she laughs at me. She's made a fool of me countless times, and I hate her for it. But I put up with it. And you're right, I love her. With every fibre of my heart. But while every fibre of my heart is loving Diana, I have no control over my hatred. So I can't even stop myself from shooting some poor deluded girl searching for her retarded brother."

Astrid shot him a glare which was probably meant to be scathing. "Sam'll get you for this."

He grinned. "Oh, I hope so. Things have been getting a little dull around here."

Standing up, he glanced down at her. "You can start heading back. And if you meet my brother, you can tell him this, before he starts getting the same false ideas as you; I am completely in control of my emotions." He smirked. "You only need to look at the sort of girl I fell in love with to know that."

With that, he turned and headed back to Coates.

Diana would get better soon. She was resilient. She would pull through.

And when she did, all hell would break lose for Sam Temple and his band of townies.


	4. Drake meets his match

**Two chapters in one day? I must be enthusiastic... Anyway, this is just a short thing I came up with. It's pretty stupid but I had to write it. Drake is in a bit of bother...**

* * *

Drake was awoken by someone knocking on the door.

He ignored them. After all, he'd been up half the night practising whipping things with his new... arm. He'd had it for two weeks, and he still hadn't got bored of its entertainment value. He could put ten stripes in something two metres away in three seconds. Whether you worked out the math or not, that was cool.

The idiot outside knocked on the door again. Drake groaned. If it was a messenger from Caine, he's decorate the kid's face and send him straight back again. He didn't have to take orders from Fearless Leader anymore.

Getting out of bed reluctantly, he headed for the door and opened it. There wasn't anyone there. He snarled. If it was some morons playing games, he would eat them alive.

"Hey, Drake, Caine wants to see you in his office pronto."

Drake peered closer. There was a slight light distortion in a vague human outline on the doorstep.

"Stop fooling around, Bug."

The boy appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "I wasn't fooling around, Drake, honest. It just happens. I can hardly control it..."

"Yeah, quit your whining," Drake growled. There wasn't any point mutilating Bug's face; it was pretty damn ugly anyway, and the kid could just disappear from view whenever he wanted. No fun at all. He turned and headed upstairs as slowly as possible.

"Hey. Didn't you hear what I said?"

"Yeah, I did, Cockroach-head. I'm going to get changed."

"Well, you'd better hurry. Caine said if you're not there in fifteen minutes, you'll be getting to know the ceiling of his office quite a bit more than you'd anticipated, whip-hand or no."

"Well isn't that dandy?" he snarled, reaching into his cupboard and pulling out a pair of pants, which he quickly changed into. Grabbing a short-sleeved shirt, he glanced out of the window as he slipped it on. There was a fine layer of frost on the ground, something he hadn't seen since the FAYZ came.

"It's cold," he muttered. He took a sweater from his wardrobe, and was about to put it on when he frowned.

How the heck was he supposed to put it on?

Taking it in his left hand, he pulled it over his head. He easily got his left arm through the sleeve. But as for his whip...

He tried to pull it up through the body of his sweater, like he would do if it was an arm rather than a tentacle. It didn't work; the whip instinctively twisted up so it couldn't get down the sleeve. He tried to get the end of the whip through his sleeve, but only succeeded in sending a shooting pain down his tentacle.

Reluctantly, he pulled his whip out, and gasped in horror.

It had tied itself into a knot.

Drake yelled an unmentionable word so loudly that Bug, still waiting downstairs, winced and glanced nervously upwards. How the hell had that happened?

More to the point, how could he undo it without anyone knowing it had happened?

Drake imagined what Bug would do if he saw this. He didn't even want to think about what Caine would do... or Diana...

He frantically twisted the whip, trying to get it to untie itself without making the situation worse. Unsurprisingly, that didn't work either. Using his left arm, he tried to unwrap it, but without any more success. He cursed. He needed two arms for this, and the one drawback of his whip was that it meant he only had one.

But Drake refused to give up. The alternative was asking for help... and that was not going to happen. Ever. Preparing himself, he resumed his efforts of trying to untangle it.

*

Half an hour later, one enraged Caine Soren burst through the front door of Drake's house. "MERWIN!" he yelled. "What the HELL are you DOING?"

He pounded up the stairs, throwing a wave of telekinetic energy at Drake's door. It opened with a bang. Caine ran in, furiously looking around.

And his anger melted into hysterical laughter.

Drake had managed to add three more knots to his whip, without managing to undo any of them. He stood in the middle of the room, face red with rage and humiliation, wearing half a sweater, and all the furniture around him wrecked.

"Drop dead, Soren," Drake snarled.

"Who's dropping dead?" a smooth voice asked from the hallway. Diana looked in to find her leader doubled over with laughter while his lieutenant shot him a dagger glare from his interesting situation.

She, at least, managed to keep her hysteria to a burst of cold laughter.

"Really, Drake," she managed. "Just... how?"

"Don't. Underestimate. Sweaters." That was all he managed to say.

It was at least five more minutes before Caine gained control of himself and managed to help Drake untie himself. By that time, a couple more of Caine's cronies had arrived and laughed their fill. Drake was seething when he was finally released.

He wrapped his whip around Caine's neck threateningly. "If you EVER mention this again... to ANYONE..."

"Drake. Do you really think I would?" Caine smirked. "After all, I need my deputy to have an aura of fear around him still, don't I? Even if the truth is something quite different."

Drake let out a roar and marched out of the house. Caine winked at Diana.

"Do me a favour?"

"What is it, oh Fearless Leader?"

"Don't let him live this down. Please."

Diana grinned. "Caine. Did you really need to ask?"


	5. Vodka and World Domination Plans

Caine knew there was something wrong as soon as he stepped into his room.

Technically speaking, it was a dorm. He'd shared it with a friend, for lack of a better word, until recently, when they'd swapped rooms with Drake. This was a better arrangement for all concerned; Drake's old room mate had been terrified that the psychopath was going to kill him in the middle of the night, while Caine's friend had been getting slightly annoyed with Caine's late night habit of pacing the room muttering things, though he had never admitted this. Drake rarely slept, and when he did it wasn't in his dorm. This left Caine with a room practically to himself, which satisfied him completely.

But not today. There was something not right.

He sat down heavily on the bed; more heavily than he'd intended to. It seemed higher up than usual, and the uniform grey and blue striped cover seemed to have many more colours than he'd remembered.

Uh-huh. He definitely didn't remember there being lime green and deep purple in there.

And now it was moving. Great. His duvet was made of snakes.

Groaning, he closed his eyes. What the heck had happened? Some out of touch part of his mind began to work its way back through his actions, trying to work out where this inability to see or think straight had come from. After class, he'd gone to the prep room, finished homework, met Drake and Diana in the dining hall…

Dining hall.

"Eureka!" he yelled, jumping up from his bed. "Caine Soren, you are one hell of a genius!"

As he leapt up, he managed to trip over the bedpost, something that he and anybody else would have thought impossible. The side of his head hit the floor with a loud bang, and he groaned loudly.

"The impossible is made possible when I'm around," he muttered, before starting to laugh hysterically. He sat up and looked around him, before freezing.

"You." His voice was low and dangerous. "What are you doing in my room?"

There was no reply. "Aren't you gonna answer me?"

Again, there was silence. Caine frowned. It wasn't usual for his orders to be disobeyed. Even Drake and Diana did what he told them most of the time. Now this… this _robe_ thought it could get away with ignoring him? No way.

"Okay, punk. Let's see what you're made – ouch!"

He'd been trying to get up, but the pain in his head was too much, and he managed to fall back to the floor and hit his head again.

"All right, all right, punk, you win." He winced with pain. "I'm not getting up anytime soon."

There was silence.

"I guess I'm just going to lie here and chat with you, then."

Caine sighed. His position was extremely uncomfortable, but he reckoned moving would hurt. "I'd offer you a drink, but I don't have any. I'm not sure quite what I've had." He hiccupped. "Probably whisky. Or even vodka. S'not nice." He raised a finger, and pointed at the robe emphatically. "Don't. Drink. You will regret it."

His arm slumped back to the floor, and he began to laugh.

"Yes, don't drink. It's baaaaaad. Hey, my mother used to say that. My mother." He put on a posh voice. "'Caine! What possessed you to think you could go into Daddy's whisky cupboard? Such a baaaaaaad thing to do. Very baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad.'" He laughed again, repeating the elongated 'bad' several times. "'So baaaaaaad I think I'll send you to Coates' academy when you're ten so you can meet some more baaaaaad people, yes? Mummy thinks so.'" He spat on the floor. "Mummy was an idiot. Even aged five I knew that. Aged five, wondering whether if I drank the magic potion that made Daddy happy, I would be happy too!"

He looked at the robe. "You have family trouble? No? Lucky." Another hiccup. "I would do anything to have different parents. Anything at all. But they did one good thing for me, I guess."

He broke out into a coughing fit which almost choked him. He couldn't breathe for a while. By the time his fit had settled down he was laughing again.

"They sent me here!" Caine flung his arms out to gesture at the room, whacking his hand against the bedpost as he did so. "Ow! The greatest thing my parents ever did for me was sending me to a school for bullies and psychopaths! Of which I am neither."

"You're probably asking me why this was a good thing."

The robe wasn't, actually, but Caine continued.

"Because bullies and psychopaths are easily crushed by the power of the genius. Who also happens to be extremely good looking and very charming. But that's beside the point. I am king of this school and nothing and nobody can stop me."

His arms fell to the floor. "Nobody can stop me. Not anybody, even if they're Diana Ladris."

Shooting a glance at the robe, he smiled bitterly. "You haven't heard of Diana? You're one of the few that hasn't. Like few people haven't heard of me. Or Drake. But everyone knows Diana."

Caine took a deep breath, so deep that his sigh turned into a cough. "Some call her a witch. Or worse. But she's just dark. Dark and beautiful. Smart. Fearless. Subtle. Sometimes very un-subtle. But always Diana. My Diana."

His words were beginning to slur; whatever alcohol it was had been slipped into his drink was starting to make him feel drowsy. He struggled to stay awake. "I love Diana, did you know that, dressing gown? I doubt it. Nobody knows that. If they did… if they did…"

A noise at the door made him turn his head. Diana stood in the doorway, motionless. Caine couldn't make out the expression on her face, but he managed to utter two more words as he lost consciousness.

"Oh crap."

When Caine had awoken the next morning, he'd been lying on his bed, a thumping headache beginning to take hold. He'd headed to Diana's room to apologise. She managed to simultaneously tell him not to worry about it, and let him know that she would always have it at the back of her mind. As he turned to leave, he remembered something else.

"Diana, why were you coming to my room anyway?"

She smiled sweetly. "Oh, I saw Drake slipping something into your drink. I thought I'd better make sure you hadn't killed yourself."

Drake was in the medical ward by the evening, having fallen down three flights of stairs and broken both his legs. Caine had been on the opposite side of the building. Diana didn't bother visiting either of them.

Instead, she spent the evening in her room, studying a list she had written in a small notebook. For want of a better name, she'd titled it: World Domination Plan

It had a ring to it.

She put a tick next to two of the bullet points:

_Get Caine to admit he's in love with me._

_Start a grudge battle between Caine and Drake._

Half the list had been ticked. It wouldn't be long before both of them were under her influence.

She smiled as she wrote one more point at the bottom of the list:

_Make Caine realise that his condition, egomania, is a psychological disorder._

A disorder that was very rare, she seemed to remember. Rarer, even, than sadism.

Which meant, essentially, that there were more Drakes in the world than Caines.

Diana shuddered, snapping the notebook shut. That, whichever way you put it, was not a nice thought.


	6. Battles, arson and firstname terms

**Hi guys! Really sorry for the lateness, the long-ness and the rubbish-ness of this chapter. It's been a month since I last updated and I will now slam a book into my head as a sorry present. *slam***

**All righty then. Here we are, as promised, a Diana-c****entric chapter. Set before they know each other. Enjoy!**

* * *

Diana strolled leisurely into class just as the late bell rang. Ignoring the glare from the witch at the front of the classroom, she dumped her bag beneath her desk and swung herself onto the chair. She then smiled pleasantly. "Anything wrong, Miss Young?"

Miss Young, whose name in itself was a contradiction in terms, shook her head angrily and took up the register. Diana smirked, before glancing around the class surreptitiously. A few pairs of eyes hastily darted downwards. Mostly male eyes. Her smirk grew broader.

On the left side of the room sat Caine Soren, his cohorts around him. His eyes didn't dart down; rather, they flipped up to meet hers. Their gazes brushed momentarily, before she continued with her survey of the students. When she glanced back, Soren had returned his attention to the front of the room.

"Right, children," the witch said, taking as much pleasure out of the world 'children' as physically possible. "Today we will be studying the character of Shylock in Shakespeare's _Merchant of Venice_" – the majority of the class here groaned loudly – "so open your books at page 45."

Diana did so, the pages falling to reveal a picture of an old man with a long beard wearing robes. In one hand, he held a knife, and in the other, a set of weighing scales. Artistic interpretation, of course. Not once in the play did Shylock actually carry such an item. Diana sighed. The old Shylock question – a wronged man trying to regain some pride in a prejudiced world, or the personification of evil, hiding murder behind an issue of money? What a fun lesson this was looking out to be.

"So, if you have read the homework," Young said, glaring around the room, "you will know of Shylock's situation and wishes. Any comments or thoughts?" She sat back on her chair, looking slightly smug. _Yeah, _Diana thought, _get them to argue it out for an hour. Lesson plan – over._

"Bit of an idiot, really," grunted a kid near the back. "If he wanted to kill the guy he shoulda just done it."

"I think that Antonio guy was a jerk," some girl near the front perked up. She looked around, apparently expecting her point of view to be so original the whole class would be inspired to tears. When nobody was, she continued. "All Shylock ever wanted was to be accepted in his community. They treated him so badly… I really feel for him." Diana sighed, not bothering to point out that Shylock was a fictional character and therefore 'feeling for him' was both a waste of energy and the precious few brains the girl had.

"Actually, the claiming of someone's flesh as payment is technically murder." A new voice entered the conversation. A quick glance sideways revealed it to be Soren. "What happened to Shylock was inevitable; he was about to kill a guy in a court of law and try to get away with it. It was quick thinking on Portia's part to get Shylock off the scent of Antonio's blood, but even if he had got away with it, someone would have taken him to court for murder."

"So you're suggesting Shylock should have killed Antonio outside of court, then?" a silky voice drawled from the back. Both Diana and Soren, along with half the class, whirled around to see Drake Merwin leaning on his desk, a slight gleam in his eye.

"From Shylock's point of view, that would have been more logical," Soren replied. "Of course, the murder was unnecessary anyway – Shylock should have accepted the money and gone."

"But sometimes money isn't good enough. Antonio was Shylock's enemy. Wouldn't you agree that in some cases, the death of an enemy might be better than the acquisition of wealth?" Merwin's voice was mocking.

"If wealth isn't good enough for you, Merwin, how about power? If Shylock had left Antonio hanging in there, permanently in debt to him, with the debt growing bigger all the time through interest, he could have used Antonio. Blackmail, threatening to call in his debt, which at some point must have consumed Antonio's entire person. Isn't a slave better than a corpse?"

"Possibly, but a corpse is a whole lot more satisfying."

"Only you would think that. And apparently Shylock. Hmmm… maybe you two should get together. Cute couple."

The whole class save Diana and Merwin sniggered. Miss Young made no move to interrupt, although her face was getting steadily redder.

"Believe me, Soren, if I had been there, Antonio would have had no way out."

"I do believe you. I believe you so much I reckon Portia, Bassanio and Gratiano would also be missing half their chests."

Merwin lost it. Before Diana could see what was happening, he grabbed a pair of scissors, made for Soren's desk and slammed them down towards his hand. Soren moved just in time; the scissors cut the side of his hand and he swore. Leaping up, he grabbed Merwin around the neck and they began to fight in the middle of the classroom, their colleagues chanting around them. Diana laughed.

"Boys! BOYS! CAINE-SOREN-DRAKE-MERWIN-YOU-WILL-STOP-THAT-RIGHT-NOW-OR-YOU-WILL-FIND-YOURSELVES-NAILED-TO-THE-CEILING-OF-THE-MAIN-HALL-LISTEN-TO-ME-NOW-EVERYONE-SIT-DOWN-BEFORE-I-SEND-YOU-ALL-BACK-HOME!"

Enough of the class took this threat seriously enough to sit down. Clearly the homes of some people were not happy places to be. Soren and Merwin still lashed out at each other, unable to see anything else. It was impossible to tell who was winning; Soren was stronger but Merwin knew where the best attack spots were. Miss Young couldn't break them up. Eventually, they both lay half-dead on the floor, breathing heavily.

"Now that you two have decided it's time to listen to me…" Young began.

Merwin muttered something along the lines of, "Shut the hell up, witch," although Diana reckoned she had probably misheard the last word.

"Agreed," Soren whispered.

Miss Young swelled. "Detention. 5 till 8 this evening, tomorrow evening and every evening you live. I will NOT allow this sort of behaviour."

Diana had to laugh. "Three hours in each others company every evening they live? I hate to break it to you, Young, but they're not gonna live much longer."

Soren chuckled lightly, before breaking out into a coughing fit. Merwin opened one eye and shot Diana a death glare almost as potent as the one Miss Young was giving her.

"Well then, Diana, seeing as you're so keen to save their lives, you can join them. Keep them civil. And I will be personally checking to make sure you turn up."

Diana ground her teeth together, but her heart began to beat faster. Caine Soren, Drake Merwin, and her, pretty much alone in the same room. That was a recipe for… something.

She didn't actually know.

She'd arrived in detention at 5 o'clock sharp. Miss Young was there, and some other teacher she couldn't remember the name of.

"Well, at least someone turned up," Miss Young tutted. The other teacher appeared to be falling asleep, but just managed to wake up enough to nod half-heartedly.

"I saw Soren – he was being detained by some girls at the water fountain," Diana said.

Miss Young tutted again. Diana hid a smirk. True, Soren had been by the water fountain with a couple of girls, but he had been talking urgently to them about something. She wasn't sure if they had actually been listening to what he said, though; their eyes had been slightly glazed over.

Merwin chose this moment to enter the room, looking like he wanted to kill someone. Then again, that wasn't too uncommon. Wanted to kill Miss Young, Diana corrected, and probably Soren and herself as well. Heck, Drake Merwin just wanted to kill everybody.

Soren wasn't far behind, a small smile just disappearing from his lips as he came in. Miss Young waited until they had all seated themselves at desks very far apart, before muttering something to the half-asleep teacher, giving the three of them one last glare, and leaving the room.

The unnamed teacher brought forward a large pile of exercise books and dumped them on Diana's desk. He did the same for the other two as well. "You'll be taking blank pages out of these books so we can use it as spare paper."

Ooh. Fun. Diana groaned as she took the first book and began rifling through it. It had belonged to some kid called Martin. Some pretty nasty-minded kid called Martin. Diana blurred out the scribbled words which littered the book and concentrated on tearing out blank pages.

Something hit her arm. She glanced down to find a small ball of paper on her desk. Soren, who was sitting on the other side of the classroom, had his eyes fixed intently on his work. Merwin was behind her, ripping pages out with relish. Neither of them could have thrown it.

She opened it up and read the three words neatly written on it.

_Grab the opportunity. _

She almost snorted. What opportunity? The opportunity to die of boredom? She grabbed a handful of blank pages and tore them out of the book, gritting her teeth.

There was a shriek from downstairs. The teacher, who had been on the verge of falling asleep, jolted awake.

"What the hell was that?" Merwin yelled.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME! PLEASE!"

"Sounds like someone's in trouble, sir," Soren said. "Better go and check it out."

Diana shot a sideways look at Soren. He hadn't... had he? That was the oldest trick in the book. Even the teacher was looking at him suspiciously. She felt like hitting herself over the head with a chair – having already knocked out the other two, obviously.

"If you think I'm gullible enough to..." the teacher began, before someone burst through the door, panting heavily.

"Fire on the second floor!"

"What? Why hasn't the alarm gone off?"

"Because someone's disconnected the system! Come on, we need to get these kids out of here."

Teacher got up and hastily ushered the three students out of the room. Diana glanced at the others; Merwin looked furious and Soren's legendary poker face was plastered on.

They were greeted in the corridor by a flurry of teachers. "Come on! The children know where to go; we need all hands on deck here!"

In the confusion, Diana felt someone grab her hand. She pulled it away angrily, only to find Soren beckoning her into a nearby classroom. She followed him quickly, closing the door behind her before turning.

"What was that?"  
Soren sat down on a desk, while Merwin examined a tatty display with faked interest.

"I got a couple of friends to help me out."

"By committing arson?" Diana raised an eyebrow. "This is what your friends do for you?"

"Something like that. I'm more persuasive than you might think."

"And why was an hour or two in a room ripping up paper worth an illegal and potentially life-threatening response?"

"Because it's a waste of my precious time, Ladris. Besides, I told them to keep the fire small and report it immediately. It won't have done any damage."

"You entrusted our lives to a couple of air-headed Barbies?"

"Yeah. Why do you care so much, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I kinda like being alive? Don't want to die just yet? Satisfactory answer for you, Prince Soren?"

A loud rip interrupted their argument. Diana turned her head to see that Merwin had torn the display off the wall and was now tearing it to pieces. She rolled her eyes and returned to Soren, only to find his dark eyes only inches from hers. They'd got closer during their verbal boxing match.

Momentarily stunned, Diana could only stand there, all her carefully chosen words gone. It seemed that the boy opposite her was in the same position; however, after a while, he pulled himself together and moved back.

"I'm going. I have some stuff to get on with, like getting Jack to erase our names from the detention list." And with a nod, Caine left the room.

Leaving Diana alone with Merwin.

They stared at each other for a moment, before Merwin headed for the door, looking annoyed again. Diana wasn't sure what had made him so moody, but then again, this was a sadistic psychopath she was talking about.

She couldn't resist. "Disappointed Caine didn't get someone killed with his little bonfire, are we?"

He slowly turned to look at her. "Who's Caine?"

And with a smirk, he left Diana to strangle him repeatedly with her imagination.


	7. How to gain enemies and trap people

**Hey guys! Sorry it's been so late - again - and thanks again for your comments! OK, so this is set in the middle of GONE. It occured to me in my cooking exam that the list of rules must have been composed by the trio of deatht themselves, so I wrote this. Suffice to say, I have probably failed the exam. :) I feel I have been neglecting Drake recently. Dangerous thing to do. Never fear, I shall write him a centric chapter soon. I just find it very difficult to get inside his head. Thankfully.**

**Oh, and I own not 'The Mask', nor 'LOST', if you get the reference, or 'Lord of the Flies', if you don't. Although I reckon you could probably have guessed all that.**

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Caine slammed open the doors to the mayor's office with a laugh, marching forwards and leaping up onto the desk, before stepping back and falling into the overly big chair behind it to smirk at Diana and Drake, who stood in the doorway with expressions of bewilderment on their faces.

"Well, that was impressive," Diana said after a while, rolling her eyes and following Caine into the room. She stroked her hand along the back of a sofa as she paced behind it. Drake closed the doors before turning to face Caine, arms crossed over his chest.

"OK, so we've got ourselves in and everyone thinks we're life savers. What do we do now?"

"Drake! Come on, man. Let's just savour this feeling of achievement for a moment." Caine stretched luxuriously. "It's not every day you manage to trick people into turning their city into a dictatorship without knowing it."

"Yeah, let's celebrate." Diana settled down onto the sofa. "I'll get the glasses, you grab the champagne. We'll get completely drunk and wake up in the morning not being able to remember anything. Why not?"

"I think I'll pass and find some kid to scare," Drake smirked, showing even white teeth. "I'll leave you two alone to your, ah, champagne."

Diana shot a dagger glare in his direction, which only made his grin all the wider.

Caine leaned forward suddenly. "OK, you're right. Enough with the celebrating. We've got work to do."

Diana groaned. "Work? We? I hope you don't mean sitting here listening to you rant for hours on end, Caine. I'm sure there are better things I could spend my time doing."

Drake nodded. "I _know_ there are better things I could spend my time doing."

Caine scowled but shook his head. "No. I need both of you for this." He opened a drawer in the desk and took out a sheet of paper and a pen. "Especially you, Drake. If we want to reinstate order in this town, we're gonna have to make some rules."

"Rules?" Drake's eyes glinted suddenly, and he stepped forward towards the desk. "What sort of rules?"

"Well, that's exactly what we're going to work out. Not too many, of course, or they'll start thinking we want to control them."

Diana gaped at him. "No! Really? What possible reason could they have for that?"

He smirked sarcastically before facing Drake again. "We'll have to make sure they're strict. We're in a state of emergency here, and if people don't do as they're told, things will start getting out of hand."

Drake nodded impatiently. "Yeah, yeah. Got it. Now, what are they?"

"OK." Caine clicked the pen thoughtfully. "We'll need to enforce positions of authority. Show people who to go to if they need help. Make sure they know someone's in charge."

"All right, Caine," Diana sighed. "You don't need to pretend in front of us. We all know your little fantasies."

Caine shot her a furtive glance. She raised an eyebrow. He turned away again.

"So what's it going to be?" she asked after a pause. "'Do what Caine Soren tells you or he'll chuck you through a wall? The FAYZ wall, if you're really bad?'"

"Mm. It has a ring to it, but no. That's a tad violent, don't you think?"

Drake snorted. "That's not violent! People get thrown through walls in romantic comedies."

They both turned to look at him. He glared back. "What?"

"Romantic comedies?"

He rolled his eyes. "I watched 'The Mask' once, okay? I was on an illegal site, thought it sounded like a horror movie..."

Caine nodded slowly. "Right. OK. Well, now we've sorted out Drake's viewing tendencies, it would be good if we could get some rules written down. So – how about, 'Caine Soren is the leader of Perdido Beach and the entire area known as the FAYZ?"

Diana left her sofa and came to sit on the side of the desk. "Make it mayor," she said. "They're used to a mayor."

"All right, then." Caine wrote down the amended version of rule one. "So, in a similar manner, 'Drake Merwin is the sheriff and responsible for any emergencies.'

"Heck, no!"

"Why not?"

"Because that means everyone'll come running to me for everything! You know kids – the tiniest little things will become an emergency." He put on an annoyingly high voice. "'Drake, you have to come quick! Little Timmy tripped on his hamster and scraped his knee! He's bleeding and everything! Hurry up!' No freaking way."

Caine looked thoughtful. "All right, then. Here's something to keep you happy." He began writing. Diana leaned over to see what it was – 'Drake Merwin is the sheriff and has the power to enforce the rules.'

"What's it say?" Drake asked. Diana told him, and a wide smile split across his face.

"Oh, yes."

"So what's next?" Diana raised an eyebrow at Caine. "Do I get a job?"

"Yeah," Drake laughed. "'Diana Ladris is the girlfriend of Caine Soren and anyone who gets in their way will regret it.'"

Caine closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "Sorry Diana. Let's say you're our secret weapon. Undercover agent. Whatever you like. But we have to have someone who isn't in a position of authority to suss out what the feeling is among the people."

She snorted. "Yeah, right. People are really going to open up to the Coates girl who holds people's hands a lot."

He shrugged. "But I tell you what we can do." Smirking, he read aloud as he wrote, 'Sam Temple is the fire chief and responsible for any emergencies.'

Drake laughed again. "Ha! He'll be thrilled with that. I hope Little Timmy and friends drive him to insanity!"

"Well, let's face it, Drake," Diana said. "They weren't going to drive you to insanity. You're already there."

"It's not just that," Caine explained, with a straight face. "People will want to see that we're not power hungry. They trust Sam, and seeing him with a job will give them hope that the people in charge know what they're doing."

Drake nodded, before grinning. "'Please, Mr Sam, Timmy's lost his teddy bear! He can't sleep without it!'"

Both of them laughed. Diana rolled her eyes again.

"How about some rules which we actually need? Like 'No taking things from the stores.'"

"But people need to take things from the stores," Caine pointed out. "How's about, 'No one may enter the store and remove anything without permission from the mayor – or sheriff.'"

"Nope. We're not power hungry," Diana muttered as it was written down. Caine heard her and sighed.

"Fine. We need this one anyway, 'All have to help Mother Mary at the daycare, provide whatever she asks for, and help whenever she needs it.' How's that?"

"All very nice and hand-holdy," Drake snarled, "but can we have some rules I can actually reinforce?"

"We'll need people to work," Diana pointed out. "If we don't make them, they'll just laze around all day eating chocolate while playing games consoles."

Drake smiled again. "Slave labour. Nice."

"You only reinforce the rules if they're broken, Drake," Caine reminded him, scribbling down the last rule. "There'll be no need to stand over the kids whipping them like you're out of some Egyptian painting."

"That's where you're wrong, Caine. Civilization is over. It's Lord of the Flies time now."

Diana stared at him. "Will you stop talking about your television preferences, please?"

"And besides, Drake, civilization is not over," Caine said. "That's what we're doing. Making sure we don't turn into something out of Lord of the Flies."

"Sure, sure," Drake muttered, but he was still smiling.

"OK. So, we've done our bit for decency and niceness. How about we return to our own agenda, huh?" Caine smiled and wrote down, 'People will not perform magic tricks or any other action that causes fear or worry.'

"Magic tricks?" Diana looked incredulously at Caine. "Subtly done, Fearless Leader."

"It's the only way to get people like Orc to follow orders. You gotta spell it out for him."

"But people might guess what you're up to." She shrugged innocently. "Sam, for example."

"Ah, yes. I had a feeling we might come across Sam again." Caine leaned back in his chair and chewed at his thumbnail. "He's not an idiot. We need to keep him quiet."

"Well, just make a rule stopping anyone from talking about us," Drake said. "Just something like 'We're in a state of emergency, don't criticize people who are working their butts off day and night for you, blah blah blah.' It's not difficult."

"Perhaps in less crude language, sure." Caine nodded, picking up his pen again. "'We are in a state of emergency. During this crisis, nobody should criticize, ridicule, or hinder anyone performing their official duties.' There we go."

"These rules aren't constricting enough," Drake complained. "We've got nearly ten of them and hardly any of them give us any power at all."

"We can't spell it out for them, Drake," Diana mocked. "We can't write in big red letters that we're taking over, and there's nothing they can do about it. They may not be able to ridicule us, or criticize us, but if they decide we're a big enough threat, I think Sammy boy could get them to rebel without them really caring about the rules."

"That's right," Caine said, after glancing at Diana with a frown at Sam's nickname. "And if we write too many rules, they'll get annoyed. So here's what we do." He scribbled rule ten at the bottom. Diana leaned over to read it, but he snatched it up before Drake could do so. Looking over them again, he smirked, nodded, then handed it to Drake.

"'The sherriff may decide that the above rules are insufficient to cover some emergency situations. In those cases, the sheriff may formulate whatever rules are needed to keep order and to keep people safe.'" Drake looked at Caine in disbelief. "You mean, I get to make up whatever rules I want?"

"Within reason, Drake. But if I hear you've been whipping kids into building you a pyramid, or turning to cannibalism..." Caine waved a hand at him. "Romantic comedies do provide good ideas for punishments sometimes."

Drake scowled momentarily before grinning again. "Fine. I'm giving this to that thug Orc now."

"You do that." Caine leaned back again as Drake left.

Once he'd gone, Diana frowned. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Give him what he wants? Placate him? Three of those rules are giving him an awful lot of power."

Caine put a hand on Diana's shoulder, which, to his delight, she didn't shrug off immediately. "Diana. Drake is undoubtedly one of the most useful people I have. So, yeah, I'm going to keep him happy. A happy Drake is a less mutinous Drake. And, as much as I would love to throw him down a mineshaft pinned to a very large, pointed stick, it's not going to help. Yet."

And, smirking, Caine got up and left the room.


	8. Alphabetical Order

**Hey guys! Wow, two chapters vaguely close to each other... that's a record. Anyway, here is the Drake-centric chapter, as promised, set pre-FAYZ again, because I love it there. Again, thanks for reviewing, and Hyperactive Lioness, I have dictated that Little Timmy will be Drake's theoretical victim for the rest of the story for you. I apologize in advance for all the future Timmy-bashing. :)**

**Danke schon and enjoy! **

* * *

People presumed that Drake had always hated school. Actually, they were wrong.

He liked the concept of school, particularly boarding. A large number of people, trapped in an area containing a few buildings and some trees for a long period of time. Full of opportunities. Little kids to be kicked, teachers to be mocked, squirrels to be strangled. The lessons themselves, sure, they were drop-dead boring. But he'd learnt a long time ago that boredom comes from within, and all you have to do to make something exciting is use your mind.

So in most lessons, Drake tended to sit at the back of the classroom, chucking bits of eraser and pencil leads at the back of the other kids' heads and seeing who gave the best reaction, or having interesting daydreams involving a barrel of eels, a chainsaw, and some little kid called Timmy. The teachers had long since given up on trying to make him learn anything, so they tended to just let him sit there. When he didn't pay attention, students got hit with erasers. When he did, things usually turned out a bit worse. Nobody wanted to risk a replay of the infamous 'Merchant of Venice' incident.

But when teachers didn't know Drake, things got a bit difficult.

It was a Friday afternoon, and the last lesson was math. The sanity levels of those who organised the timetables at Coates had often been questioned, but verdict had not yet been passed as to whether they were too mentally unstable to teach. Anyway, as dangerous as a bunch of disturbed children in a math class last thing on a Friday afternoon was, that was what had been arranged, and Drake reluctantly made his way to the classroom, wondering why, if he was just going to make up blood splattered fantasies for an hour, he couldn't do so in a more comfortable scenario.

So when he reached the classroom, he was completely astonished to find all the kids lined up against the wall.

For a second, he thought they were all being lined up to wait for a shooting squad, and he got slightly excited. Then he realised how unlikely that was, and looked around for a better answer.

That was when he saw the substitute teacher, and his stomach dropped.

"Hi there!" The sub smiled at Drake so brightly that he could feel heat reflecting off the man's teeth. "Would you like to join your friends along the wall?"

Feeling mildly stunned, Drake went to stand with the others. A substitute teacher. That was never a good thing. In fact, it was usually a very, very bad thing.

He was one of the last to arrive. When the entire class was standing by the wall, the radiant teacher turned his full beam on them. Drake could feel his pupils narrowing to slits.

"OK, guys. I'm your new teacher, Mr Greene."

New teacher? _New_ teacher?

"Sir, where's Mrs Harris?" some kid asked.

"Mrs Harris has had to resign very suddenly due to family issues," Mr Greene replied. "I'm going to be teaching you for the rest of the year."

Drake reckoned that if he'd had a heart before he stepped into the room, he certainly didn't have one now. It had shrivelled and died somewhere between the words 'rest' and 'year'. New teacher meant name learning. That meant seating plan. Which usually meant...

"OK, kids. If you wouldn't mind sitting in alphabetical order when I call attendance, that would be great."

Drake minded. He minded a great deal. Because his class was cursed with a lack of surnames beginning with L. In fact, there was only one surname which began with L, and that was Diana Ladris. There were also very few Ms in his class. The first of which was his own.

He glanced over at Ladris, wondering if she'd caught on yet. She was looking firmly in the other direction, which implied that she had. He swore quietly. There was no way, there was no way in _hell_, that he was going to sit next to Ladris in every math class for the rest of the year. And yet there was no way out either.

Unless...

Drake glanced surreptitiously in the other direction. Soren was standing close by, looking bored and slightly disgusted at the unbelievable enthusiasm of the new teacher, who was practically skipping around the classroom showing people where to sit. Drake nudged him hard with his elbow, the slight exhalation of pain making him feel a little bit calmer.

"What?" Soren hissed.

"Say you're me."

"What the...? Say I'm you? Why?"

"That'll put you next to Ladris, moron."

Soren thought for two seconds.

"Fine."

"Fine." Drake smiled slightly. He was safe.

"Okey dokey," said Mr Greene. "Diana Ladris?"

"Here," Diana answered, stepping forward and taking the next unoccupied seat, shooting a glare at Drake as she passed. His smile grew even wider.

"Drake Merwin?"

"Here."

As Soren took his place next to Ladris, a few students glanced at him in confusion, only to be met with a glare that turned their gaze hastily away again. Ladris herself raised an eyebrow when he sat down beside her, but he muttered something in her ear which seemed to clear it up. Drake was pretty certain that Ladris would prefer sitting next to anyone else rather than himself, even if it was Soren.

"Caine Soren?"

Drake almost missed it. "Yeah, that's me." Grinning, he sat down in a desk nearer the back than his assigned place would have been. This was getting better and better.

Once everyone had been seated, Mr Greene smiled. "All right then, class, get out your books. I hear you've been doing algebra, right? So... who can tell me what x is if 3x+34=2x+18?"

Drake slowly blanked out. His mind sunk deeper into his imagination. Ah... he could almost feel the purring of the chainsaw as it rested between his hands. It was almost like an animal, a pet of some kind. He could feel the power, the contained energy just waiting to be released in a bright spurt of red...

"Drake Merwin?"

"Wha-?"

But Mr Greene wasn't looking at him. His gaze was on Soren, whose hand was raised, a small smirk on his face. Drake rolled his eyes. He was going to have to get used to ignoring his own name in math classes.

"Actually, sir, I was wondering if I could ask a question."

Both Drake and the teacher blinked. The former stared at Soren suspiciously. What was he doing?

"Um... sure, Drake." Mr Greene still managed to smile widely. "Go ahead."

"Do you have some sort of disorder?"

Half the class laughed while the other half stared at Soren as if he'd gone completely mad. Drake snarled quietly, but the older boy didn't appear to have heard him. He just looked up at Mr Greene with a curious expression plastered on his face.

"No, of course not. What makes you say that?" Greene was seriously confused now.

"Well, you smile a lot. And you're always bouncing up and down, and frankly, you seem far too cheerful for a place like this. So I was wondering if there was something wrong with your mental health."

Mr Greene's smile finally went. He glared at Soren. "I appreciate your concern, Mr Merwin, but my mental health is perfectly fine. Better than yours, I daresay."

Soren's face turned dark, and he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. He didn't say anything else. Greene tried to ignore the glower that one of his students was giving him, and tried to resume his dignity, and the lesson.

"So..."

"Now that we've established that you're clinically insane," Soren added, still glaring.

"Drake Merwin, if you speak one more time I will give you a detention."

With a sudden jolt of realisation, Drake understood, and a long list of four-letter words that could be used to describe Soren suddenly tumbled into his head. That was the way this was going to work, was it? Well, two could play at that sort of game.

Drake suddenly lashed out at the girl sitting next to him. His foot connected hard with her leg, the concealed steel caps of his boots making her yell in pain. Greene's attention was diverted away from Soren.

"What was that about?" he demanded the girl, all traces of his former amiability gone.

"He kicked me," the girl sobbed, pointing at Drake. He snorted with disgust. What a wimp.

Greene looked at Drake. "Caine Soren, isn't it?"

"Yup," he smiled, baring his teeth to convince the rest of the class to play along. Nobody spoke up.

"Well, Caine," Green said tiredly. "If you keep kicking people I'll have to move you to the front of the class."

"Front of the class?" Soren asked incredulously. "That's for six year olds who steal their friends' pencils, not teenagers at _this_ school. Did they even look at your credentials when you came here?"

"Drake Merwin, that's enough."

"What about if I hit people, sir?" Drake asked, still smiling at Greene. "Or stab them with scissors. Is that OK?"

"No, that is not OK. You're old enough to know that by now, Caine."

"He'll do it," Soren advised the teacher. "You'd better handcuff him or something, 'cos once he's started getting violent he doesn't stop."

Green whirled around to face Soren. Drake took the opportunity to grab the crying girl next to him, putting her in a headlock and raking his nails down the side of her face. White marks sprung up. She screamed.

"CAINE SOREN STOP THAT IMMEDIATELY!"

"Aw, come on, sir. It didn't even draw blood." Drake picked up a pair of scissors and opened them, bringing them closer to the screaming girl's face. "These, on the other hand..."

The teacher ran forward and snatched the scissors away from Drake. He wrenched Drake's hands off the girl's head, holding them behind his back as Drake struggled violently against him.

"I told you that you needed handcuffs." Soren shook his head.

"Shut up!" Greene spat. "The pair of you, come with me. We are going to the principal's office. The rest of you, page 31, exercise 12. In silence."

Greene wrestled Drake over to the door. Soren got up, winking at Ladris, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, before following them out. Drake gave up on struggling and allowed himself to be taken to the principal's office. Even if Soren got him a detention, it would be worth it if Drake could bring him down too.

Greene knocked on the door and brought the two boys in. The principal didn't seem too surprised to see Drake, but his eyes widened slightly at Soren's appearance. Of course. Soren was a charming teacher's pet who could talk his way out of trouble, 9.9 times out of 10. It was only his henchmen who got caught doing his dirty work.

"Yes, Mr Greene?"

Drake could hardly remember the teacher's former happy-go-lucky demeanour. "These two," he growled, "have been causing total disruption in my lesson."

The principal sighed, leaning forward on his desk. "Mr Greene, you are aware that many of the students at this school are... troubled. Disruption in class is not all that uncommon here."

"Not like this. Caine Soren has been threatening people with scissors, and Drake Merwin has been making smarmy comments about my mental health all the way through my lesson."

The principal blinked. Drake could see a smirk creeping onto Soren's face in his peripheral vision. He felt like laughing himself. Why were adults such idiots?

"Are you sure?"

"Sure about what? Soren had a pair of scissors near a girl's face, and Merwin was telling me to handcuff him."

"Are you sure it wasn't Merwin with the scissors? Merwin is the one with the sadistic tendencies, anyway."

Greene frowned at them. Drake couldn't contain himself any longer; he burst out laughing. Soren grinned as the principal checked one of the files on his desk.

"And Caine Soren. Usually very quiet, but has issues with control."

"No self control?"

"No, he feels he has to control."

"What the hell is going on?" Greene half-yelled.

Soren rolled his eyes, turning and leaving the office. Neither of the two men seemed to notice, so Drake followed, still smirking.

"Hey, Soren," he called. The other boy turned round.

"What?"

Drake caught up with him. "I thought you ought to know that I hate you."

"Oh, I do. I think you should probably know that the feeling's mutual." Soren held out a hand. "Mutual hatred?"

"Agreed." Drake shook it, and they both smirked. Soren turned away to leave.

"Oh, and Drake?"

"What?"

Caine didn't bother to turn around. "If you ever sit next to Diana, and try to pull a stunt with a pair of scissors again... I will kill you."

Drake nodded slowly. He was sure of it. He knew there was something odd about Caine, something that meant he could control everything. Something that made the world move around him. And Drake needed to find out what that was.

Maybe sitting in alphabetical order wouldn't be that bad after all.


	9. Suspicions

**Hi, guys. This chapter is short, not very funny and pretty rubbish overall, really, but I'm slightly uninspired right now, so with any luck I'll be rereading GONE and HUNGER again and suddenly come up with a new idea. Preferably involving Caine, because I miss him. In the meantime, enjoy (as much as you can)!**

* * *

Drake slammed the door of his house and legged it up the stairs. He felt like such a coward. He felt like such an idiot. But right now, he had to reclaim what little sanity he had, and to do that, he had to be alone. He could only hope Caine didn't hear about it.

Throwing himself down on his bed, he snorted. Who was he kidding? Caine found out about everything, especially now he was leader of the FAYZ. With Drake as his deputy. It was strange, being officially Caine's second-in-command. It'd made him feel powerful. He'd never wanted total control, never wanted to rule. That was far more Caine's territory. But the ability to hurt people if he wanted to, if he 'saw fit', that was worth anything.

Anything. So stop hiding, Merwin, and get out there like nothing happened.

Nothing did happen. Some girl said something stupid to him, and got beaten up for it. Like she deserved. Drake couldn't believe that someone, anyone, could be so thick. She'd had it coming.

But then, he guessed, so had he.

The kids hadn't been nearly scared enough of him. Of course, now they would be – now that girl had had some permanent damage done to her. And she wouldn't be blabbing rumours around anymore, not without possessing someone else's body. Drake smirked at the memory of the girl's face when he'd stuck the knife into her mouth. She'd been so much prettier with blood all over her chin.

But still, it was infuriating to know that at least one stupid kid thought it. And if one kid did, who was to say that more people hadn't had such... blasphemous, for lack of a better word, ideas?

Drake closed his eyes and let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl of frustration. Did it look like that was the issue? Did it look like there was tension between Caine and himself because they were both in love with Diana?

Even the words made him feel sick. 'In love with Diana.' Heck, it made him want to hurl all over the floor. That slimy, self-satisfied witch who thought she could get away with anything. Even worse, she could, thanks to her control-freak, or rather, controlling freak, semi boyfriend. Drake had no idea what was going on between those two, and the only reason he could think of for even wanting to know was for blackmail purposes. He certainly didn't want people to think he was involved somehow. He'd known from the start he was keeping out of whatever weird thing those two had going.

Then again, when he'd first seen Diana, he had thought she was... what word? Caine would say beautiful – Drake snorted – in his charming manner. The bitchier of the girls at Coates would have said provocative, the more envious ones would have said gorgeous, and the nicer ones would have said pretty. The guys would have said, had said, hot. Drake reckoned alluring was the right word. Not that he'd admit it to anyone, ever, but it was true. Right up until the point where she'd opened her mouth.

"People really ought to learn not to do that," he muttered to himself. "It makes it so much easier to hate them."

"Like you need any help with that."

Drake looked up sharply. Diana was leaning in the doorway, smirking as per usual.

"I didn't hear you come in."

"No, obviously not. You were probably too busy muttering to yourself."

He rested his head back down on the bed. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here because some girl has been found in an alleyway with three broken ribs, a black eye and her tongue cut out. I figured you might know something about that."

Drake didn't say anything. He didn't need to. It would be a waste of breath.

"I thought so." He heard the witch coming further into the room for some reason. "Drake, I've always known you were stupid, but now you have just made yourself a contender for the annual village idiot of Thicktown competition."

"Witty," he spat.

"About as witty as attacking that girl was."

"I think 'fun' would be the better adjective there."

"Why, Drake? Cutting out one kid's tongue isn't going to stop the whole town from talking about it. I'm pretty sure you know that. So what for?" When Drake didn't reply, she continued. "Did you want to bring down Caine's regime single handed? Or did she just wound your planet-sized ego?"

"Says Caine's girlfriend."

"I'm not his girlfriend. Are you going to answer me?"

"No, I don't think I am."

There was a pause. Then Diana headed towards the door.

"Fine. I'll just go and give my report to Caine about how his second-in-command is going around cutting out little girls' tongues for no reason other than for fun, showing a complete lack of self-control which I'm sure will result in-"

"All right, all right, I get the idea!"

"So are you going to tell me?"

Drake growled. "She was talking out of turn."

"I talk out of turn. You haven't cut my tongue out."

He looked at her with disbelief. "You're under the protection of the almighty telekinetic. Trust me, there is nothing else standing in my way."

"So you essentially admit that Caine is more powerful than you?"

Drake choked out a laugh, forcing himself to stay cool. "He's a freak. Some sort of radioactive waste has been seeping into his head, and now he can chuck people through walls. So I'd rather not cross him, no." Yet.

"What was the kid saying? What could be so extreme that you had to do something like that?"

Drake had never wanted to kill Diana so much in all his life. "She was talking about Caine being the leader of the FAYZ..."

"And..."

Truth or lie? Lie would see that the rumour didn't get around. Truth would mean Diana didn't do anything that could fuel the rumour. That meant pretty much anything at all.

"She asked which one you were going out with."

Diana frowned. "She what?"

Drake's fury was about to explode in a burst of splintered wood. "She asked whether you were going out with Caine or me. In simple enough language for you?"

There was silence. Diana stood there, looking slightly stunned for a moment. Drake was breathing heavily.

"What are you going to tell Caine?" she asked eventually, not meeting Drake's eyes.

"What will he believe?" he asked, just as carefully.

She thought for a minute. "Say she was trying to get you to admit that Caine had some sort of power. Pretend she worked out what happened at the church. Something like that."

"All right."

"And if it was that serious, you'd have gone straight to Caine to tell him, like the loyal little henchman you are. So pretend there was a fight you had to break up before you went to see him. Go. Now."

Drake narrowed his eyes, not wanting to take orders from Diana, but stood up anyway and headed out. He paused at the door.

"And what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?" Diana's voice shook slightly.

"You know what I mean. You have to stop these rumours." Drake could feel a small smirk creeping onto his face. "And I can't."

She whirled around to glare at him, but saw the smile on his face. "I am not dating Caine for your amusement, Drake."

"What are you dating Caine for then?"

She breathed in sharply, but Drake left before Hurricane Diana could be unleashed. He had to get to Caine's office before his steadfast loyalty could be questioned.

And he would have to watch his loyalty. After all, if people thought Drake was stealing Caine's girl, how long would it be before they thought he was undermining Caine's authority completely?

How long would it be before anyone worked out the tiniest bit of the conflict that was really hiding underneath everything?


	10. Impressing the press

**Why hello there! As promised, Caine-centric, and with a good helping of Drake as well. :) No Diana today - sorry, but she didn't really fit here. Again, thanks for all your reviews - they are rapidly becoming my motivation for life! And Puppy, really sorry, but slash isn't really my thing. I gave you a couple of references in here, but I just can't see Drake and Caine together. Not that I don't love the arguing. :)**

**As always, enjoy!**

* * *

There was a knock at the door.

Caine groaned. Why was it that whenever he was trying to get some serious work done, someone would always come and interrupt? Someday, someone was going to get hurt doing that.

"It'd better be Diana," he muttered to Drake, who was next to him, still poring over the map of Perdido Beach on the desk. They'd been trying to work out the best place to set up an army, should the time come that one was needed, without anyone knowing it was there. A task that had so far proved unsuccessful.

"Uh huh," his lieutenant muttered. Yet more proof that he wasn't listening; Drake would never want to see Diana in a million years. Caine sighed and called for the yet anonymous knockee.

There was a small pause, before the door creaked open. A girl, no older than twelve, tentatively peered around the door.

Caine's almost instinctive charm kicked in, a smile breaking out on his face as he moved past Drake, muttering "Hide it," in his ear as he did so. He approached the girl. "Come in, kiddo. What's up?"

The twelve year old stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. She was quite short and blonde, with the sweet round face that was all too familiar to Caine. He tended to call its type the 'I'm-sweet-and-innocent-so-please-do-what-I-ask,' face. Not good.

"Um... hi. My name's Chrissie, and, well, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions."

"Sure. What about?"

"Well, I mean... I've kinda been thinking that maybe it would be a good idea to set up some sort of newspaper or something in the FAYZ? Cos then, everyone would know what was going on and stuff, and I was thinking that if you and Sam Temple and-" Here the kid broke off, her eyes widening at the sight of Drake.

"Drake?" Caine prompted.

"Um, yeah. If you guys did interviews or something then people would know you better and could get to really like you and stuff..." She trailed off.

Caine didn't have to see Drake's face to know that it was darker than the depths of hell. His thoughts were the same. No, no, no, no, no, no... wait.

"You're going to ask Sam to do one?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, yeah. He's already done it." Chrissie giggled a little, but stopped at the sight of Drake's face. Caine smiled again.

"Sure. Why not?"

"Why not?" Drake hissed as they both took seats opposite Chrissie, who was rummaging around for a pen. "Why not? Because it's humiliating, that's why not. We're being asked questions about our lives by a six year old, in order to make people_ like_ us more?"

"Listen, you moron. Sam did this, and if Sam did it, then we can. Besides, it's not necessarily liking. It's getting to know. And I know how much you want these kids to 'get to know' you."

"The last crumb in the breadbin has finally blown away, hasn't it, Caine?" Drake muttered. But he smirked slightly as Chrissie finally found her pen and smiled hesitantly up at them.

"Okay. How about Caine, you answer first, and then Drake afterwards?"

"Sure." Caine shot her his trademark weak-at-the-knees grin. "Go ahead."

"All right. What were you doing when the FAYZ first started?"

Drake rolled his eyes; thankfully, Chrissie was looking at Caine. He said, "I was in class. Learning about algebra, actually, so when the FAYZ came it was a bit of relief at first."

This earned a small chuckle as the girl scribbled away in her notepad. Caine glanced at Drake, who answered.

"Yeah, in class. Daydreaming at the time, I think, something about a shark."

"...about... a... shark. OK. Did you ever want to be what you are now?"

Caine laughed. "Mayor of a kid-run town in a bubble? No, not really. But I did like the idea of going into politics, or maybe law."

"Yeah," Drake agreed. "Law would be cool. Of course, I reckon we'd have been on different sides of the law, but..."

"Um, who do you think you miss most from outside the FAYZ?"

Caine's smile faded instinctively, and he put on a solemn expression. "Well, I guess it's easier for us boarders than it is for the Perdido Beach kids who live at home, but I won't pretend I don't miss my parents. I just hope that when the FAYZ ends, they'll be proud of me."

He felt like vomiting just saying it, but Chrissie lapped it up like a little dog, just like he'd hoped. Then Drake joined in.

"Well, I guess I miss my little brother Timmy the most."

Caine closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this.

"You have a brother? Why isn't he here?"

"He got taken to hospital back home. You see, me and Timmy were great mates, always hanging out, always playing games together. But he had this sort of instinct for getting himself hurt. He spent more time in hospital than out last year, what with the time he tripped up on his own laces and fell head-first into a pile of stinging nettles. And that once he ran into a knife, three times. Oh, and there was that time he managed to get himself strung up in the park. Weird, that one. Poor kid."

"Oh no!" Chrissie gasped. "Is he okay?"

"Dunno. This time he was found with a pencil stuck in his ear. He was screaming so loud you could probably have heard it in Scotland. Anyway, he's in hospital now. Or then. Whatever."

Caine thought Drake sounded a bit too unconcerned for his 'little brother', but Chrissie didn't seem to notice. And anyway, Drake wasn't trying for likeable. Drake was trying to be scary.

"So, Caine? Got a girlfriend?"

The question took Caine completely by surprise. His eyes darted to Drake's instinctively, who was trying not to laugh. He looked back at Chrissie.

"Um... can I choose not to answer that one?" he asked, chuckling weakly. "It's kind of private."

"Oh, right. Sure. Privacy." Chrissie nodded. "Drake?"

"In a manner of speaking." Drake smirked. Caine couldn't count the number of times Drake had referred to any one of his guns as 'she'.

Chrissie looked at Caine, then across at Drake. "Boyfriend?" she asked quietly.

There was a pause.

"_No!_" Both Drake and Caine yelled simultaneously. Drake shuffled away from Caine ever so slightly, both avoiding the eyes of the other.

There was another awkward silence, during which Caine tried not to be sick.

"Okay... um, what's your favourite colour?" Chrissie asked desperately.

Colour, Caine thought. What's a good colour for a leader to like?

"Purple," he said. "Rich, deep... it's good."

Drake coughed violently, and with a suspiciously laugh-like sound. "Red. Blood red."

"Right. Cool. Um, thanks for doing that." Chrissie got up hastily, dropping her pen and fumbling around on the floor for it. "I'll try and get these out... soon... bye!" She all but ran from the room.

The two guys paused for a second, before bursting out laughing.

"P-purple?" Drake said between gasps for breath.

"Ran into a knife? Three times?"

"Miss my parents so much!"

"Something about a shark?"

They stood there, not quite sure why they were laughing but physically unable to stop, both fervently hoping that Diana wasn't about to walk into the room. Slowly, very slowly, their laughter subsided.

Caine took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Drake?"

"Yeah, Caine?"

"Ah... if that girl doesn't mention the, um, boyfriend thing...?"

"Oh, don't worry," Drake said, his eyes suddenly serious. "My lips are completely and totally sealed."

"Good." Caine gave Drake a quick nod before hurrying out of the room.

He could only hope that Sam's answers were just as ridiculous...


	11. The AZ of a sociopathic exdictator

**Hey guys. I am feeling completely uninspired right now - could well be the absense of LIES in my life until September :( - and can't really think of anything new. So this is one I was going to put in for the Caine contest on Gaiaphage which is now not happening. It's more angsty than funny, and it's set in the future, minus LIES because I haven't read it. If you don't get it, feel free to ask. :)**

**I honestly love you people and your reviews. I send great thanks and love from my little rainy island. Enjoy! :)**

It was eerie, walking around Coates again.

Caine hadn't been here for a while. What with the Darkness and the rioting, the failed take-overs of Perdido Beach and the time he'd spent running from one house to another, it felt like it had been years. His mind failed to comprehend that he was still only fifteen.

Then again, when people were hammering on the door of whatever building you were hiding in, yelling death threats and trying to burn the place down, time tended to go more slowly. One tended to mature. Life tended to seem less worth the effort.

And it wouldn't be long before the same thing happened here. Only, this time, there wouldn't be anywhere else to run to. They were finally going to get what so many people had wanted for so long. All but two of the FAYZ's population, actually.

Caine felt very calm as he slowly ascended the staircase, which was stupid, really, because he should have been panicking. Death wasn't something that generally came easily to fifteen year old boys, especially those who had been put in a school for rich but disturbed kids. If the circumstances had been different, Caine was sure he'd have been hurling furniture into walls and through windows, screaming out to the world at large that he was not going to die, not today, not tomorrow, not until he chose to. He was in control.

It had been months since he'd been in control, not that he'd known it. The idea that perhaps, this time, his life wasn't in his own hands had been slowly invading his mind. Now he was certain of it. His worst nightmare had come true, but he was going to take it like a man, like the eldest in the FAYZ. Like Caine Soren.

He was terrified. He could feel his legs shaking as they hit the top step and carried on, past numerous closed doors and empty corridors. These halls were rarely noisy, but they were never silent. Being the only person here would have given him a sense of power before; no longer.

His feet led him to the room he had designated his office as soon as the adults had disappeared. It had been the headmaster's study once, but the plaque had been torn off the door some time ago. His hand pressed against the wood, and the door swung open, revealing the neat room that he had spent three straight days in, planning their arrival at Perdido Beach. He'd snatched a few hours of sleep a night, face down on the desk, only allowing Diana and Drake to enter in order to give reports on how the others were doing.

Caine sat down on the black chair behind the desk. He'd always liked it; it'd made him feel like he had power. Diana used to say that all he needed was a small, white creature and a pair of black gloves to make him look like the embodiment of clichéd evil. He was sure he no longer looked anything like that. Just a scared kid, sitting in an office that was clearly far too big for him.

He didn't want to be a scared kid in a big office. He'd made his mark on the FAYZ, he'd made his mark on the kids who lived in Perdido Beach. He wasn't going to go out like this, silently, terrified. He was going to make one last mark.

Caine reached across the desk and took one of the sheets of paper from the stack, with COATES ACADAMY written neatly at the top. He grabbed a pen from the drawer and removed the lid, before pausing.

The final words of Caine Soren. His will. His legacy. What was he going to write?

A second later, he laughed. He'd made it sound so important. Who was going to read it? Once he was dead, they'd probably burn the place down, not even bothering to look around. Who cared what he wrote?

Glancing round the room, he caught sight of a picture of the old headmaster and his family. His wife was holding a baby who was smiling widely up at the camera, a book named 'My first A-Z!' clutched in a chubby fist. Caine didn't remember seeing the kid around. He was probably dead.

He started to write.

_The A-Z of a sociopathic ex-dictator_

_A – Astrid. I think that's your name, anyway. Well, girl, it has to be said, you didn't have a great life. Of course I didn't know you before the FAYZ, but from what I did see of you, being stuck to Sammy boy's side was never the nicest place to be. Particularly recently. But hey, look on the bright side. You weren't stuck to me._

_B – Bullies. Useful things. I guess I was one myself, but then, at Coates if you weren't a bully¸ you were bullied, whether you knew it, or not. Isn't that right, Jack? Most bullies are stupid. Those who aren't control those who are, and they control everyone else. It's a sort of feudal system of bullying. And I was right at the top, until now._

_C – Caine. Me. I. The ego. I can't live without myself. Then again, most people can't, as the past few weeks have proved. It took me a while to realise that, though. You kill people, they don't get annoyed, or hate you, or even try to kill you back. They just die. End of. And that fact's never been more terrifying._

_D – Diana. And it's fitting that we're next to each other, really. I don't know who was by who's side, but whichever way round it was, it was. Always. You were the only person I ever cared about, despite the fact you said I wasn't capable of love. Well, sweetheart, maybe I wasn't. But you were mine, right up until the last minute. Which is more than I can say for anything else._

_E – Evil. And no, I guess I wouldn't say I was evil. As the aforementioned letter indicates, I guess I did have someone else's interests at heart. Unlike some of the other people in the FAYZ. Not mentioning any names, of course, but most sadists are evil. And radioactive monsters tend to be. Oh, and leaders of mutant-killing mobs. Generally speaking, obviously._

_F – FAYZ. Howard, you were smart enough to rule this place. You could have done so once we were all out of the way, had you not tried to defend that monster Orc. Anyway, you gave me the name not just for my kingdom, but for my reign. The Caine FAYZ. That brief period where I was in charge, or so I thought. The best time of my life. Sad, huh?_

_G – Gaiaphage. Whatever the heck that thing was, or is, or will be... I still don't know. It's got something to do with the radiation, I think. Not that it ever really mattered to me. Before, it was something that tried to use me to help it grow stronger. Now, I really couldn't care less whether it's still alive, if it ever was. All I know is, if you're going to kill someone, Zil is an excellent choice._

_H – Human Crew. Total morons. The one thing, save Diana, that would make me join forces with my brother. Too late now, anyway. You know, what gets me the most is that were it not for your sheer numbers, your entire scheme would have fallen apart. I guess there's a lesson for you there, Caine. Sometimes, brute force does win._

_I – Idiots. One of the drawbacks of being a genius is that nearly everyone else is an idiot. I can't say I've met more than five other people who aren't. Diana, of course, and Jack. That Astrid kid is called a genius, but I'm not so sure. She couldn't save herself from the mob, could she? Then again, it would appear that neither can I. _

_J – Jealousy. I reckon I've spent most of my life being jealous. Power, wealth, glory, fame... oh, I knew I was going to get it all one day. But at the time, it bugged me that it couldn't be mine, right then and there. Turns out the only thing I'd get would be the fame of being a cruel dictator. Not quite what I'd hoped for. And yet I'm not jealous anymore. Work that one out._

_K – Kids. I always hated being called a child. I had this thing about independence, being able to control my life, by myself, without having to depend on anyone else. That's why boarding school was so great. I could pretend that I didn't rely on anybody. But when push comes to shove, I am a kid. Yeah, I'm an former evil dictator, but still._

_L – Lunatic. I have been called this more than once. Mostly by Diana, I must admit, but several times by Sam, various kids cowering in fear and pain, and quite a few teachers. Well, prior to the FAYZ, I was attending a school for disturbed kids and seeing councillors about my sociopathic tendencies. Figures, really, doesn't it?_

_M – Merwin. We always were enemies, even when we were allies. I didn't really hate you until you hurt Diana. Since then, you have been the bane of my existence. I still despise you, more than anybody or anything I have ever known. The only good thing I can say about you is that when you finally did go, you took fifteen of the Human Crew with you. Score for the freaks. _

_N – Narcissism. I can't deny it, and besides, there's no point. I have an ego the size of the FAYZ itself. That's probably part of my disorder. See? I'm even talking about my mental illness like it's something to be proud of. What is it about the end of a person's life that makes them see themselves more clearly than ever before? It would probably have been more useful a little earlier than this._

_O – Obstacles. When you try to take over the world, whether it's the entire earth or just an area the size of the FAYZ, there will be obstacles. In my case, namely twin brothers, monsters, sadists and revolutionaries. Not an altogether pitiful list, actually. I reckon I made enough enemies to justify my death. There's some consolation, at any rate._

_P – Power. I think it's pretty ironic that my greatest weapon should be my downfall. Poetic, even. The sort of thing that happened to tyrants in Greek myths. There's a certain satisfaction you get out of that idea, or, more likely, a satisfaction I get out of it. I doubt Sam Temple would enjoy that thought. It's probably a sociopath thing._

_R – Radiation. I guess you could say I died from radiation poisoning, if you think about it. It's not a nice way to go. And I have held a rod of uranium up in the air for several hours under the influence of a monster that wanted to eat it, so I should know, really. I'm still not sure if I'd have chosen the powers or not, now I know where that path leads. Guess I'll never know the answer._

_S – Sam. The word 'brother' still doesn't come easily to me. I think of you as a rival, a 'mummy's little golden boy' type kid. I didn't take you that seriously at first. Diana warned me against that. Turns out I was right, for once. I had much bigger things to be worrying about, as do you. Die well, Sam. Make your mother proud. She won't be proud of me._

_T – Torture. It happens, I'm afraid. Particularly when Drake Merwin's your lieutenant. It's hard to keep him and his whip away from people, especially when they're not telling us what we need to know. It's their fault, really. They should know better when it comes to people with psychological disorders._

_U – Underdogs. Also known as Computer Jack. Not to be underestimated. Some of them were stronger than they looked, whether metaphorically or literally. But they all had their weaknesses, and once I'd found them, they were ruined. Once someone's been on my side of the fence, they've been marked for good, by everyone._

_V – Vendetta. Against who, I never was sure. I think it was the world in general, with all those idiots who didn't listen to me. If it weren't for Sammy and his gang rebelling against my regime and claiming I was some sort of evil mastermind – that boy knows how to flatter someone – we wouldn't all be being picked off one by one. I always was right. Told you._

_W – Willpower. It's essential to staying in control. I always had a will, and I usually got my way. But it tended to fluctuate with my luck. I guess I'm not as strong as I always thought I was, and now I've lost my will to live, it doesn't look like I'll be around much longer. But I've still got the will to fight. I'm going out like Merwin, and Diana. Like the Coates kid I am._

_X – X marks the spot. OK, so that doesn't really fit, but neither does xylophone. And I guess, in a way, the X is marking this spot now – the end of my life. I'll be dead within the next hour, I know. I wonder if anyone will bury me. It's unlikely, seeing as most of the other mutants are dead, and I doubt even the peaceful norms will put in the effort to bury me now._

_Y – Youth. I am fifteen years old. I used to think that was far too young an age to die at, but having lived in the FAYZ for nearly half a year, I feel old. I am one of the oldest, one of the best. They seem to want to save the best until last. I haven't got a problem with that. I just hope they realise what they're setting themselves up for._

_Z – Zil. Well, here we are. Caine Soren, brought down by some kid with ideologies and delusions of grandeur to give my own a run for their money. I know you're coming up now, Zil. I know that it won't be long until you bang on the door of Coates Academy, ready to kill another freak, one of the most dangerous freaks. Do you expect me to hide? Do you expect to have to come in and search for me? I hope so. _

_Because then, you won't be on your guard when I open the door, hands splayed, grinning from ear to ear like the maniac I am, ready to send as many of you to your deaths as I can before following you._

_Don't wait. I'm ready. _


	12. Messing with his mind

**Hello! And I'm so, so sorry that it's taken so long for me to update! Holidays, writers' block, etc... Anyway, I have two chapters coming up now, the first of which is, again, quite depressing - I'm enjoying messing with Caine's mind at the moment - but there's a romantic undertone. And an enormous THANK YOU for all the reviews I got for the last chapter - they were quite possibly the best reviews I've ever got. Thank you guys! :')**

**I also have to give a belated acknowledgment to Hyperactive Lioness, whose list of rules I stole in 'How to gain enemies and trap people', from her fic 'FAYZ-book', which is superb. Due to a complicated complication I didn't realise they weren't the real ones... :S Anyway, if she wants I'll change them. Thanks a lot. :)**

**This chapter is dedicated to GONEFAN101 for her PM which nearly made me cry. THANK YOU! :D**

* * *

Caine walked into his office and collapsed straight onto the sofa. He was more nerve-numbingly exhausted than he had ever been in his life. He'd known running the FAYZ wasn't going to be easy work, but still...

"Ugh," he managed, closing his eyes. Sam Temple. Let him die in a hole somewhere cold. He was on the verge of wrecking everything with his infernal questions and suspicions. He was too damned smart for his own good. And in the meantime, pressure was mounting on Caine from his lieutenant and his not-girlfriend to do something about everything.

And all the while, the big one-five was looming in the not-so-far-distant future.

Groaning again, he slowly got up from the sofa and headed over to the desk. Resting wouldn't do him any good now – he had to get on with things. There was a town to run. He sighed internally. It was moments like these that he was on the verge of giving up the dream.

There was an envelope on his desk, with his name written on it. Caine sat down heavily, picked it up and squinted at it. He recognised the writing, but right now he couldn't remember whose it was. Taking the letter out of the envelope, he opened it up.

And nearly fainted on the spot.

_Dear Caine,_

_I'm not going to muck around here. I've lied to you. A lot. And now the time's come for me...well, I'll get to that later._

_Basically, I love you._

_It's the first time I've felt anything this strong for anybody, and I guess that's why I tried to convince us both that I was indifferent since I first met you .Emotion's a weakness. You know that. That's why only I can get to you. That's why only you can get to me, even if I can hide it better than you can._

_If you're wondering why I'm telling you this now, it's simple. I'm older than you think; actually, I'm older than you. I've lied about my birthday so many times hardly anybody knows when it really is. You're going to join that elite band in a minute – it's today. _

_I'm fifteen today, and I'm going to poof._

_And I thought you'd want to know what I really mean. I didn't want to tell you in person because I was scared you'd be angry... despite everything, I still don't want to die with my head smashed in by a wall. I don't know what happens when you poof, but something tells me you don't die. _

_So if I see you sometime, if you don't survive the poof, maybe it'll be okay._

_But for now, I can't say anything else._

_Goodbye._

_Diana._

Caine's eyes widened as he read the last few lines.

Then he dropped the letter and bolted for the door. He tore along the corridor, ignoring the yells of some kid he knocked over in his desperation to get past. Out of the doors, onto the street. Kids were staring at him as he legged it towards Diana's house; he didn't care. If anything had mattered to him more than this before, he didn't know what it was.

He slammed Diana's door open, running inside. "Diana!" he yelled, charging up the stairs. "Diana!" _Please let her still be here, please, please, please, please..._

"What now, Caine?"

Caine stopped so suddenly he almost fell over. She was standing in front of him, arms folded as she leaned against the doorpost of her room with a sceptical expression on her face.

Her face. He didn't even bother looking at the rest of her, not like usual. Right now, her eyes and nose and mouth were all that mattered to him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stared at her like this, drinking her in, Diana, in all her beauty and glory and her whole aura of wonder.

And he would never get the chance again.

"Diana, why didn't you tell me?" he said quietly.

"Tell you what, moron?"

Caine blinked. "About your birthday."

"What about my birthday?"

"It's today."

Diana raised an eyebrow. "Really? News to me. How do you know – you secretly my father or something?"

Caine was speechless.

"Hmm... maybe not. You may be creepy, but you're not that creepy. Thankfully." She shot him an inquiring look. "What?"

"So... it's not your birthday?"

"Nope." She popped the 'p' unconcernedly. Caine winced.

"And you're not poofing?"

"Well, now, let me see." Diana felt her arms and head. "Nope. Still here. What is this, twenty questions?"

"And you don't... you don't love me?" Caine finished in a whisper, knowing somewhere at the back of his mind that he was making a complete fool of himself, but not really caring right now.

"Um, no." Diana rolled her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you this until you get the picture, Caine?"

"I-" There was nothing to say. Caine nodded slowly, before turning and starting to head back the way he'd come.

"Hey, Caine..." Diana sounded slightly worried now.

"Just leave it, Diana. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. It's bothering me. What the hell happened – why would it be my birthday?"

Caine stopped and turned around again. "I got a letter from you. It said you'd lied about your birthday and that you were going to poof. And that..." he trailed off again. "Well, you can work it out."

"And you just came running over here?" Diana said sceptically. "Without even considering that it wasn't true? For flip's sake, Caine, you're expecting to be able to take over a town with that sort of attitude?"

"I thought you were leaving me," he said simply.

Diana shook her head in disbelief, before seeing the look on Caine's face. His practised blank expression had been plastered on, the one which hid emotion, but there were cracks in his armour. His mouth was trembling. His eyes were pointed down. And, perhaps worst of all, tears were welling up in them.

She blinked. Caine never cried. Caine _never _cried.

Not knowing how to cope with this, she started talking. "This sounds like a Drake sort of thing to me." Probably true.

"Yeah."

"Maybe you should go chuck him into a wall."

"Maybe."

Diana bit her lip. "Maybe you should go back and work out the best time to ambush him."

"Yeah. I'll do that." Slowly, he turned around and headed back down the stairs.

Diana stood staring at him. Even once he'd gone, she kept gazing at the place where he'd stood. He'd been desperate to see her. Absolutely desperate. And the look on his face when he'd realised it hadn't been true... it made her shudder. His 'love', or whatever it was, for her may not have been real, but he really thought it was.

"Caine..." she whispered softly, but he was long gone.

She returned to her room. Her half-read magazine was still laid out on her bed, but she didn't touch it. Instead, she went to a small box of things she'd taken from Coates the day they'd moved down here. There wasn't much in there, so she didn't have to move much to find what she was looking for – a folded piece of paper, right at the bottom.

Picking it up, Diana sighed deeply. She'd have to destroy it now. She couldn't risk anyone getting their hands on it, let alone Drake.

And of course, it didn't matter. It was just her silly ramblings. She wrote them a lot – when she felt too much emotion, she'd write it all down on a piece of paper, let it all out, then destroy it. But this one... she'd never got round to getting rid of it. Till now.

It was stupid, to feel sad. Her feelings had changed now. This was the five-minute excitement that she'd regretted ever since. Just get on with it, she told herself.

Slowly, she opened it. One last time.

_Caine Soren._

_He is, without a doubt, the most..._

_I don't even know. He's probably got his own adjective. Cainey. Oh, hell no. That sounds like a soppily affectionate nickname. Make a note to myself never to use that word again._

_Well, if there isn't one word, let's try for lots of different ones._

_He's beautiful. Not a very masculine term, I know, but it's true. His voice is deep, resonating, almost commanding. His face is so expressive, always moving, always emotional, even if most of it if faked. Which is probably is. Because there's something about Caine, like there's about fifty layers of him hidden underneath the outside. If there are, the outer layer is made of diamonds. Because he's beautiful, and strong and flawless._

_And no. It's beautiful, and it's strong, and it's flawless, and I'm going to have to start thinking that way. Because if I don't, he's going to draw me in, like he's done to so many other people, and I can tell he wants to. He met my eyes earlier, and something changed. He's focused on me now. That's a good thing. If he's after me, it's my instinct to play hard to get. It's my instinct to be distant._

_He's making it easy for me to do that. So I will. And I'm glad he is. _

_Because he has no idea how much harder he could make it, if he knew how._

Fold. Tear. Tear. Tear, tear, tear, until a hundred tiny pieces fell to the floor in a mess of white. Diana stood there, watching the pieces float down slowly.

Huh, she thought. Did I really write that?

And she stepped through the pieces, leaving the room and ignoring the little voice at the back of her mind that said, "Yes. You did."


	13. Homework

**Why, hellooo again. :) Second chapter of my 'sorry' moment, and it's much more light-hearted this time, thankfully. :D Just so you know, I'm going away for a week tomorrow so I won't be able to reply to reviews, but I promise to reply as soon as I get back. *promise***

**And this chapter is dedicated to Jiffers21, for her PM which also nearly made me cry. :D THANK YOU AS WELL!**

**Disclaimer: Um, do not own Wikipedia. You could have worked that out for yourself though, I reckon. Oh, and I DO NOT ENCOURAGE GETTING DRUNK! It's just highly amusing from Drake's perspective... Carry on! :)**

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Most of the teachers didn't have very much in common at Coates. There were genuine professors and doctors with qualifications from Harvard and Oxford and various places around the world. Then there were the average teachers who worked hard for little repayment, especially at a place like Coates. There were also those who had difficulties coping with children at all, and were only here because they had nowhere else to go.

But the one thing that they all did, straight away, before marking a pile of books belonging to 'that class' was put Diana Ladris', Caine Soren's and Drake Merwin's work straight to the bottom.

The reason? The homework of these three students was enough to want anyone to instantly get drunk, which most teachers subsequently did. The students' suspicions that the staff room was a place of wild raves and parties was, in fact, true, but nobody had worked out the reason why yet.

This went on for years. It became almost a legend at Coates, an unwritten school rule which was told instantly to any new teachers who came. It didn't matter who they were, it didn't matter what they taught. The main qualification necessary for the teaching staff was that they could search through a pile, put three books at the bottom, and get completely smashed straight afterwards.

Until the arrival of a new principal set this rule into confusion. He was a large, walrus-like man, pompous and disapproving. None of the teachers really wanted to be the one to tell him what they had established for years, and what they would feel sincerely lost without now, mostly because the majority of the staff had become roaring alcoholics. They were pretty sure that this principal would abolish what had been known as the 'DCD' rule, at least until he got to know them, and they weren't sure they could cope with the absence of alcohol, which was otherwise completely banned.

Eventually, it was settled by drawing straws, and it was settled on little Dr Harris, a man about one metre tall, with no hair and thick, black glasses. Some of the staff felt that leaving such a momentous task to such a little man was cruel, but the thought of announcing to Principal Walrus that they had a vendetta against three of their students and they all got stupidly drunk every night soon put this query out of their minds.

So one night, trembling, Dr Harris took a pile of books to the office of the principal, hoping desperately that he wouldn't be fired for being the one to break the news to him.

"Ah, Timmy. Come in," the principal said as he saw Dr Harris entering the room, nearly completely obscured behind the pile of books he was carrying. "What are those?"

"These, sir, are the English, Art, Religious Studies and History books of three of our students," Dr Harris said, dumping them down on the desk. "The entirety of the staff has agreed that you need to read these before you hear what we have to say."

The principal looked puzzled. "Why these books in particular?"

"You'll see, sir. Just read them," Dr Harris said, before rushing out of the room.

The principal put on his glasses and examined the books. All of them belonged to either a Diana Ladris, a Caine Soren, or a Drake Merwin. Merwin. The principal shuddered. He'd heard that name before. The most dangerous kid in the school. But the other two he hadn't heard of yet. Could they be just as bad?

Slowly, tentatively, he opened the front page of Caine Soren's history book and began to read.

_The Assassination of Abraham Lincoln_

_The __assassination of Abraham Lincoln__ was carried out on __Good Friday__, April 14, 1865. President Lincoln died from the gunshot wound the following morning. Lincoln was shot at __Ford's Theatre__ in __Washington, D.C__. The __American Civil War__ was drawing to a close, just six days after the large-scale surrender of Confederate forces under General Robert E. Lee to Union General U. S. Grant._

_The assassination was planned and carried out by __John Wilkes Booth__ as part of a larger conspiracy in an effort to rally the remaining Confederate troops to continue fighting. Lincoln was attending a stage performance of __Our American Cousin__ at __Ford's Theater__ with his __wife__ and a twenty-eight year-old officer named Major Henry R. Rathbone, and his fiancee, Clara Harris. Lincoln was the first American president to be assassinated, though there had been earlier attempted assassinations of other presidents._

_Lincoln's __assassin__, __actor__ and __Confederate__ sympathizer John Wilkes Booth, had also plotted with fellow conspirators, __Lewis Powell__ and __George Atzerodt__, to kill __Secretary of State__William H. Seward__ and __Vice President__Andrew Johnson__ respectively. Although Booth succeeded in killing Lincoln, the larger plot failed. Seward was attacked, but recovered from his wounds, and Johnson's would-be assassin fled __Washington, D.C.__ upon losing his nerve._

The principal stopped reading, unable to find anything wrong with this work. Indeed, apparently neither could the teacher who marked it. He flicked through the rest of the book, looking at the comments made – 'Very good work,' 'Exceptional as always,' 'Superb effort', until at last he came to a piece of work marked with a D.

He frowned. The work seemed as good as always. However, upon reading the comment, he felt the sudden urge to down a glass of wine.

**Very good, Mr Wikipedia.**

The rest of the comments in the book seemed to be about the same. The principle knew the type – as they got found out over and over again they would use more and more obscure sites to gain their information. Sometimes it would take hours to find the proof that the student had copied the work. Occasionally they might even do their own work, in order to waste the teacher's time searching all over the internet for a completely original piece of writing.

Groaning, he closed the book and heading to Diana Ladris' Religious Studies book. Hoping this student would be a bit milder than the one before.

His hopes were dashed.

_My Religious Opinions_

_My opinion on religion is that I really don't care what other people believe. I think that there may be some sort of outside force which created this world, mostly because it's pretty unlikely that everything that happened to this earth happened by chance, but that it's not going to play a very big part in our lives because humans really aren't that interesting. I will now attempt to prove this fact._

_Human beings are generally grouped into different cliques. High school is a prime example of this type of thing, and while adults like to pretend that they are above this sort of grouping, they quite blatantly aren't. Anyway, the cliques of high school are quite representative of real life. For example, sitting here, I can see a girl wearing a very skimpy top and a skirt which is smaller than your average scarf. She is blonde, and talking very loudly and obnoxiously to the girls next to her, while painting her nails in a bright red colour. This is a prime example of a-_

The principal closed the book. He didn't need to read any more. The type who would spend the time assigned to homework with writing snide and impolite comments about other people disguised within an essay. He'd had some particularly bad experiences with that sort before.

Frantically, he grabbed at whatever book was nearest him. Opening it he-

"Oh."

He instantly felt the need to vomit straight into his waste paper bin.

Drake Merwin's art book was beautiful and horrendous all at the same time. The kid clearly had a gift – the drawings were superbly detailed and wonderfully done. But the content was enough to make Arnold Schwarzenegger run away crying. The principal could actually feel his eyes watering as he swept through what felt like thousands of life-like images of wars and torture and murder and pain and fear... he felt almost zombie like in his horrified fascination.

That kid must have an abundance of red paint, some unattached part of him thought.

Then he cracked. He leapt up from his desk, ran over to his filing cabinet and unlocked the bottom drawer. Grabbing a bottle of wine from his abundant stash, he tore the cork out with his teeth and began to drink.

It was going to be a long year.

* * *

Drake Merwin crept along the corridor towards the principal's office, smirking. He'd seen the new headmaster, and something told him that if he wanted to get into the files, tonight was the night to do so. Security would be lax, the new guy not realising quite what Coates was like.

Why not take the opportunity to check out the files of his good friends, Soren and Ladris? He was sure the information would be most valuable.

Creeping along, he frowned. He could hear music, very loud, raucous music, coming from the direction he was headed. Intrigued, he made his way down the corridor, the music getting louder the further along he went.

Eventually, he made it to the office. Peering through the glass, he almost gasped with horror.

Every teacher he knew, from the principal down to little Dr Harris, was in the office, dancing, singing, swinging from the lightbulb. It was quite obvious they were all completely and utterly drunk.

Drake could hardly believe what he was seeing. It was true. The staff at Coates were running wild. And it was horrifying. The sadist watched, aghast, as two of the teachers kissed vigorously in the corner, while another started doing the cancan on the desk.

Desperately, he fumbled in his pocket for his phone. Camera, on. He took about twenty pictures, making sure he covered the entirety of the room, not missing out one staff member. This was far too good an opportunity to blunder.

As quietly as he could, he removed himself from the door and headed back down the corridor, grinning like a maniac. Who cared about files? He'd just provided himself with enough blackmail material to get him through his entire school career.

It was going to be a very, very interesting year.


	14. Timmy's Revenge

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**And I rise from the dead! It lives! :S I am so sorry for this lateness. And not only that, but I find it very likely that this is going to be the penultimate chapter of Hatred - much as I love it and all your amazing reviews, I have the feeling that I'm losing momentum, and if I carry on it's going to become repetitive and boring. Basically, I guess I'd rather finish it on a high then have it fizzle out and get old. **

**But thank you all so much - particularly Lover of Gone who not only reviewed every chapter but gave me CC and favourited this, which I've gathered is an honour. Really, your reviews are all amazing and I can't thank you enough. Please check out some of my other work - I could really do with constructive criticism if I want to reach my goal of author. Thanks so much. :)**

**And here we have it. Because it had to be done. ;) As ever, enjoy.****

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**

Caine was pissed off.

"Where the hell is Diana?" he yelled, clawing at his hair with his hands as he paced up and down his office. "She's late. Again. She's always late!"

He tore his hand away from his head and jerked it randomly, sending a vase flying across the room. Drake ducked as it soared over his head and smashed on the opposite wall.

"Why does she think she can always do this? Seriously, Drake, I've had enough of this. She thinks she can undermine my authority just because I..."

"Just because you what, Caine?" Drake asked, as innocently as his voice could manage.

Caine swore. Chucking another fragile object across the room, he marched towards the door, muttering curses under his breath as he went. Drake followed at a distance.

Okay. So saying Caine was pissed off was an understatement.

Drake had no idea why Fearless Leader was so angry, but it made a good bit of light relief from the do-good attitude everyone had been putting on lately. He wouldn't be surprised if Diana had turned up late on purpose, just to make Caine angry. If she hadn't... there was an idea. Drake smirked.

Caine was still storming down the corridor, chucking things around as he went. Drake followed, still grinning. Diana, whatever she was doing, was going to regret not turning up. He'd not yet had the satisfaction of seeing her thrown into a wall, and he was looking forward to it.

"TIMMY!" Caine yelled suddenly at a volume loud enough to shatter glass. Drake winced slightly, before looking around quickly to check if anyone had seen. "Timmy, you little... where the hell are you?"

A door opened somewhere along the corridor, and a miniature kid ran out, a nervous look on his face. "Yes, Mr Soren, sir?"

Drake snorted at the name. Caine threw him the dirtiest look he'd ever seen before turning back to the kid.

"Timmy. Did I, or did I not tell you to deliver a message to Diana telling her that it was urgent she was in my office at one o'clock this afternoon?"

"You did, sir."

"And did you?"

"Yes, sir."

"So why isn't she in my office?" Caine growled. The kid, who was at least half his size, was shaking violently.

"I don't know..." he said in a small voice. "I delivered the message, sir, I promise you."

"Where did you find her?" Caine demanded.

Timmy's eyes lit up. "That was the weird thing, sir. Follow me, I'll show you."

Drake raised an eyebrow. Caine hesitated, but followed the little kid down the corridor. When Drake didn't do the same, he turned and glared at him.

"You know, Drake, I'm thinking about building a wall with your name on it. It can be your new best friend. Of course, after each session with it, you'd have to build it up again, but I'm sure that would be a minor inconvenience when you think about the pure, unadulterated joy that would come with hanging out with your new wall."

After a moment of glaring, Drake sighed deeply and began to follow Caine. He didn't trust that Timmy kid. Very suspicious. Always seemed to be around when Drake was in a bad mood. Always seemed to be in pain for much longer than everyone else. Always seemed to get Drake into trouble.

Timmy stopped. Caine stopped. Drake frowned. What were they doing? As far as he could remember, the door they had stopped by led only to a large cupboard. Apparently Caine had the same thought.

"What's this?"

Timmy looked up at him with big eyes. "This is it, sir. When I found Diana, she was sitting in this cupboard with the door open."

Drake couldn't help but let a smirk flit across his face. Diana, sitting in a cupboard? By herself? For hours? Oh, boy, if that was true...

Caine's face seemed to change colour several times before it finally settled on a shade similar to that of paper. He knocked on the door. "Diana? You in there?"

A muffled voice came from inside. "There you are! Where the hell have you been?"

Caine clenched his jaw. "That's a bit rich, coming from the girl who's spent all day in a cupboard."

"Well, that's your fault, you total and complete moron. Are you coming in, or what?"

"What?" Caine's eyes widened dramatically. "What the heck are you going on about?"

"You know what, Caine? I'm just gonna sit here until you give me some decent answers. Up to you."

Drake snorted. Caine shook his head, growling, before opening the cupboard door. A shaft of light fell into the gloom inside, illuminating Diana's wincing face.

"Ow. Couldn't have given me a warning, could you?"

Caine crouched down to her level. "Diana. I swear..."

"Are you gonna come in? Or is this just all for your own amusement?"

He hesitated. Drake could see the mind processes happening, trying to work out if this was a joke or not. Slowly, cautiously, Caine moved forwards into the cupboard.

Drake couldn't help himself any longer – he burst out laughing. Ducking down and resuming Caine's old position, he grinned at the two inside the cupboard, ignoring their glares. "It's moments like these that I wish more than anything I had a camera."

"Join the club," Timmy's voice came from behind him.

Before he could do or say anything else, Drake felt a large weight ram into his back. He fell head-first into the cupboard, straight onto Diana's lap. There was a laugh from outside the cupboard, then a slam as the door was shut and the three inside were plunged into darkness.

A tiny click. More laughter. Then running feet.

Drake lay there, stunned for a moment. What the hell had just happened?

Then everything burst into confusion.

"Get off my lap, you creep!" Diana yelled, pushing Drake off her. "What do you guys think you're doing?"

"What do we think we're doing?" Caine roared. "You're the one who told me to come in here, you-"

"Be careful what you call me, Caine," Diana warned. "From my perspective this entire thing is your fault, and if you weren't such an arrogant-"

"Oh, so you're blaming me now? May I remind you that you're the one who told me to come in here, little-"

"I only told you to come in here because I was ordered to by you, damn you and your-"

"I didn't do anything like that, you lying-"

"So you're now trying to make it seem like I invited you into a cupboard, you desperate-"

"Guys!" Drake nearly screamed. "Shut up!"

There was silence for a split second. Caine took a deep breath.

"Why is it my fault, from your perspective?" he asked, coldly.

Diana replied in the same tone of voice. "Well, Fearless Leader, I got a message earlier from that Timmy kid telling me that it was vital that I was here at one o'clock today."

"And you just came here?" Was that a touch of hope that had crept into Caine's voice? How pathetic.

Diana snorted. "Naturally, I refused. Then the kid told me that you'd said if I wasn't there, you'd use your powers to force me in there. I decided not to risk it – it sounded like you were severely pissed off."

"Oh, he was," Drake commented. "It was quite amusing, actually."

"I didn't send that message," Caine insisted. "I asked you to come to my office at one, I didn't say anything about a damned cupboard! Ow!" He'd hit his head on the roof.

While the other two bickered, Drake looked around, trying to adjust his eyes to the light. The cupboard was large for its type, but still not big enough to hold three nearly full-grown teenagers. It was very hot, and cramped. Drake didn't have a problem with small spaces usually. However, usually didn't entail sharing said small space with the two people on this earth he hated the most, and Drake was starting to get very, very uncomfortable.

"Drake? You alive?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm alive."

"Good," Diana commented. "Wouldn't have wanted to stay in here with a corpse, especially not yours."

Drake ignored her. "You two sorted out your lovers' quarrel, then?"

Diana started saying "We're not-" but was interrupted by Caine.

"Timmy set us up," he said through gritted teeth.

Drake raised both eyebrows. "Timmy? Set us up?"

"Apparently." Caine snarled. "Dammit, I want to throw something so badly right now."

"Well don't, unless you want to kill us all by a flying Drake in confined area," Diana said.

"You wouldn't be the first to die by my hand." Drake smiled.

"No, but I'm pretty sure we'd be the first to die by your-"

"Argh!" Caine yelled with frustration, punching the wall. "Ah!" he yelled again, clutching his hand. "Somebody get us out of here! Anyone! Dammit, let us out or I'll kill you!"

Drake had no doubt that Caine was serious, more serious than he'd ever been in his life.

And it was one of the funniest things he's ever seen.

"Nobody can hear you scream, Caine," Diana commented dryly. "And besides, how do you know it wasn't a conspiracy? Maybe nobody wants you out of here."

"They sure as hell won't, no. But the longer I stay in here the angrier I'm going to be when I do get out!"he spat.

"Maybe it was Sam's idea," Drake mentioned casually.

Diana snorted. Caine made a strangled noise and rammed his head into his knees.

"Kill me now, kill me now, kill me..."

Diana sighed and shuffled slightly closer to Caine, somehow. Putting on a soothing voice, she murmured. "It's okay, Caine. We're going to be fine. And if you threaten enough people, I'm sure word of you being fooled into being locked in a cupboard won't get out to anybody."

"You're really not helping, you know," Caine muttered, but his voice seemed calmer. Diana smirked and retreated again.

"So, we're stuck here?" Drake asked bluntly.

"For the time being," Diana replied.

There was a moment of silence. Then...

"Crap," Drake said.

"Quite," Diana agreed. It was quite possibly the first thing they'd ever agreed on.

Caine raised his head. "You two seem remarkably calm about all this."

Drake nodded. "Don't worry. I'm freaking out inside, storing it up and thinking about murdering that kid."

"Can I help?"

He smirked. "Sorry. I've been the terror of that kid's life for a long time. I wouldn't want to change that."

"Pity. I'd have enjoyed that."

Diana made a disgusted noise. "You two are such animals."

"Yeah?" Caine muttered. "Why are you being so smug?"

"Because I've already worked out what I'm going to say when I get out of here and there's someone asking me why I was in a cupboard with you two."

There was another pause. Caine and Drake stared at each other. Then they both leapt for the door at the same time.

"Hello? If anyone can hear me and is not letting me out of this cupboard they are going to die slowly and painfully!" Drake snarled, ramming on the door with both hands.

"Someone can hear you, and they can let us out of this cupboard, but they're not," Diana said cryptically. Caine ceased his frantic pounding whirled round to stare at her.

"What the heck are you wittering about, Diana?"

She smirked. "Oh, I'm sorry, Caine. I was under the impression that you liked showing off with your powers. Or has being in such close confinement with myself and Drake driven you completely barmy?"

Caine stared at her for a moment, before slamming his head into the wall again. He threw his hands forward, towards the door of the cupboard, with such aggression that Drake reckoned the door might have fallen off from the impact of his hands rather than the telekinesis behind them. Light sliced through the air, forcing Drake to narrow his eyes to slits as he lurched forward, whacking his head on the door frame in his eagerness to get out of the cupboard.

Once he was out, he collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily. Caine was out next, looking just as angry as Drake felt. Diana came a little afterwards, her face impassive as she swept past the two. Drake's jaw clenched.

"Well," she said, looking down at Drake with a slight smirk. "Fun as that was, I think we would all appreciate it if that wasn't mentioned to anybody."

"You think?" Drake swore, sitting up slowly. "If either of you tell anybody, you'll meet the same fate as that little brat I'm about to go and mutilate."

"Mmmm." Diana nodded. "Sounds nice. Well, Caine, was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

Caine glared at her. "Was there?"

Diana sighed, raising her hands to the sky. "I give up. I'm joining Sam. Bye."

"Don't even joke."

Rolling his eyes, Drake clambered to his feet and began to walk down the corridor, making a list in his head as he went. Go to the house. Go to his friends' houses. Send out a search party. Put up wanted posters. He was not going to stop until this kid was found.

He smiled grimly. Timmy was going to regret the day he'd even looked at Drake Merwin.


	15. In loving memory

**And here it is, months after my last update as usual, the final chapter.**

**Thank you. Anyone who has reviewed, favourited or even just read this, thank you so much. You guys have been really inspiring for me, and I hope the ending lives up to any expectations you may have.**

**MAJOR PLAGUE SPOILERS! If you haven't read it, seriously, don't read this. Read Plague, and then read this. XD Also, I have no idea what Brittney's last name is, so I made one up. I don't think it's in the book, but I could be wrong, so if I am, let me know and I'll correct it for you.**

**Again, thanks so much. As ever, enjoy. :)**

* * *

A dark haired girl walked alone through the graveyard.

It was a cold day. Wind tore through the city, making the skeletal trees bow and tremble in forced submission. The colour seemed to have been drained out of the world, the sky, the ground, the buildings, all the same shade of grey. Nobody was out. Everything was dead.

Except for her.

The wind was freezing, whipping her hair and clothes around manically. She didn't move to keep anything in place, more out of her lack of notice than of her knowledge of its futility. Her eyes were glued to the stones, reading their inscriptions several times each before moving on to the next. Not one stone was missed or looked over. Where moss had grown over the inscriptions, she tore it away.

She was a beautiful girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, with long dark hair and deep brown eyes. She had a regal, almost tragic, air about her, and held herself with some sort of poise as she walked around the graves. Her face was solemn and respectful, but unfeeling. Cold. Even a stranger could tell that these people had been no friends to her.

Only when she approached the last row of the graveyard did she stop, and kneel down to examine the stones more closely.

These stones were newer than the others, and less crudely done, but many more parasites covered the markings. The girl reached forward tentatively to brush away the filth that coated them, her hand trembling from cold, and something else. Apprehension? Fear?

IN LOVING MEMORY OF BRITTNEY HARRISON AND DRAKE MERWIN

Loving memory. The girl snorted, before sobering herself again. The stone had been put there for Brittney, and everyone knew it. It'd seemed wrong, though, to the adults, to leave no memorial for a fifteen year old boy who'd been killed in such a horrific manner. Roasted in the air, held suspended while burning fire tore his flesh from his bones, screaming so loud that every child had to hold their heads to prevent them from exploding with pain.

No, the adults couldn't allow that to pass without memorial. Even if not one FAYZ kid had agreed with them.

She supposed it didn't matter, anyway. Nobody had come to visit the graveyard since the last bodies had been placed here. Nobody wanted to remember what had happened. Perdido Beach had been practically abandoned, a cold shell of the lively place it had once been.

The next stone. Now, only now, did feeling appear in the girl's eyes. They sparkled with moisture as she reached forwards to make the words clear.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF CAINE SOREN

Her hand fell.

Was it a disappointment? Nothing more than a memory, albeit 'loving'? Was this what Connie Temple had left for her youngest son? She shook her head, trying to clear the resentment from her mind. Hardly anyone who had known him had been left after the FAYZ. Had anyone really known him at all?

But after what he'd done, for all of them. For everyone...

She stretched out her hand again, not afraid this time, or apprehensively, but angrily. Fingers splayed, she closed her eyes and concentrated hard, willing the power down her arm and through her hand, into the grave. _Work. Work, damn you, please, work._

"It won't work."

Her eyes opened. She turned, still reaching out over the grave, to see a woman standing beside her. It was like looking into a mirror; a tall, slim figure with a beautiful face, long dark hair and pale skin. She looked at the girl with what seemed to be affection, dark eyes calm and tranquil.

"I... are you... you're...?"

The woman smiled sadly, glancing over at the last stone on the row. The girl didn't need to read the words to know what they said.

"Diana Ladris?"

Diana looked back at her. "I don't need to ask who you are."

The girl frowned, her eyes clouding over again with anger. "I didn't ask for you. I asked for him."

"Like I said. It won't work."

"Why not?"

Diana shrugged. "You need a body, don't you? Well, there's no body. Not for either of them," she added, "although I'd have to ask why you'd want to talk to Drake at all, if he's who you're after."

The girl turned away, back to the stone in front of her, over which her hand still lingered, quivering. "Go away."

Diana stepped closer. "All right then. I'll go." She paused. "But you know that only you have the power to make me leave. So why am I still here at all?"

There was a moment of silence. Even the wind seemed to have stopped wailing to hear the conversation between the two young women.

"Why did you do it?" the girl asked finally. "Why- How could you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know what," she snapped furiously. "What you did to him. He was willing to give his life for you, and you stabbed him in the back for the people who wanted him dead."

Diana sighed softly. "You've been talking to Sam."

"Of course I've been talking to Sam."

She paused. "How is he?"

"Insane."

Another hesitation. "Astrid?"

"Gone. Nobody knows where. And Edilio got taken back to Honduras." She snorted. "Anyone else you'd care to check on while you avoid my question?"

Diana stepped closer to the girl again. "I had to do what I did. If I hadn't, none of those people would be alive right now."

"But he would!" She stood up, turning and glaring at Diana. "All of us, we would have survived. And we'd be a family now, a proper family. Not just a kid with the weight of her parents' crimes crashing down on her conscience every second that she lives, knowing that she is only alive today because of all those kids who died because of them. Knowing that her father would have died to save her mother, at least, but she turned traitor at the very last second, and he died alone." Her voice broke into a small sob, cutting off the last word. "Alone," she said again, before clenching her teeth to stop herself from crying.

Diana stood still, her eyes remaining fixed on the girl. "I take it Sam told you what happened," she said, an edge creeping into your voice. "Well, let me tell you my side of the story."

"Don't make excuses for yourself," the girl muttered, but her voice was weak. Diana waited until she was silent again before beginning.

"Everything was crashing down on us. Literally. The sky was falling, the FAYZ wall fragmenting as it collapsed, but still burning, killing anyone it fell onto. Drake was dead, the Darkness destroyed, and everyone was running, trying to reach freedom, or somehow save themselves from what looked like the end of the world.

"Caine was barely alive. He'd been fighting Drake, beating him down to give Sam a chance to get at him. He could hardly stand, but he raised his arms and he cleared a path through the sky, a telekinetic beam which protected the ground from the falling wall. He was screaming at me. 'Diana, get out! Get out, now!' And I knew that if it took me for all eternity, he'd stand there, until it killed him."

The girl was staring at her, unable to say or do anything. Diana continued.

"But there were so many children. So many kids, just screaming. They were running down the path Caine had opened up, finally reaching freedom. And Sam, and Edilio and Dekka, pushing people in that direction, pleading with me wordlessly just to stay, to stay until everyone else had gone. I couldn't refuse them. I stood there, unmoving, while Caine begged me to go, as his body began to shake under the weight of the FAYZ wall, until the last child had escaped. Only then did I move. And only once I was free did he finally let go."

Diana fell silent. The girl was shaking; the wind had picked up again, and the temperature had dropped to what felt like below zero. The graveyard was still deserted, but suddenly it felt full of the ghosts of those who had died so many years ago, in the same place, a million miles away. The ghosts whom she could bring up with a flick of her hand. All those lives, all those meaningless lives, as close as that, when the only life she wanted near her was unreachable.

"And when you were born, and they thought you were going to die, I died," Diana finished simply. "I had nothing left to live for."

"But I lived," the girl said. "I did live, and you left me."

"Yes. I did."

She turned away, back to her father's grave. "I hate you."

For some reason, Diana chuckled softly.

"What?" The girl shot a glare towards her.

"Hatred. It was always about the hatred, with Caine and Drake. They hated me, I hated them, they hated each other." A half smile graced her lips. "And yet, somehow, without them, the world was empty."

A moment later, the place she had stood was empty once more.

The girl stood for a moment, swaying slightly. Slowly, very slowly, she sat down on the floor.

And, as the wind dropped again, tears began to roll down the cheeks of the only child created by the FAYZ, sitting among the graves of those whom it had destroyed.


End file.
